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IN FARTHEST BURMA

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IN FARTHEST..\
BURMA

THE RECORD OF AN ARDUOUS JOURNEY
OF EXPLORATION AND RESEARCH
THROUGH THE UNKNOWN
FRONTIER TERRITORY

OF BURMA AND Wickes
TIBET Ww
BY

Carrain F. KINGDON WARD, B.A., F.R.G.S.
Late Indian Army Reserve of Officers, attached 1[116th Mahrattas
AUTHOR OF
‘¢THE LAND OF THE BLUE POPPY,” ‘* BY THE WATERS
OF KHAM,” &c., ec,

40465

~ LONDON
SEELEY, SERVICE ts CO. LIMITED

38 Great Russet, Street

1921

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ELECTRONIC VERSION
AVAILABLE

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TO
THE Hon. w. A. HERTZ, CSI.

“LATE, COMMISSIONER, MAGWE

UPPER BURMA ‘

ried to open up the Soudan, and were opened up by Fuzzies
n that cruel scrub outside Suakim. . . . ”
RUDYARD KIPLING ~

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PREFACE

ANY of the illustrations contained in this
M volume I owe to the kindness of frontier

officers, and my thanks are especially due
to Mr P. M. R. Leonard of the Frontier Service, and
to Mr T. Hare of the Public Works Department,
also to Mr A. W. Porter.

I am much indebted to Major J. E. Cruickshank of
the 1/2nd Gurkhas (late of the Burma Military Police)
for assistance while I was at Hpimaw; to Mr J. T. O.
Barnard, C.I.E., now Deputy Commissioner, Fort Hertz;
and to Major J. de L. Conry of the Erimpuras.

Finally, I must record the debt of gratitude I owe
to Mr W. A. Hertz, C.S.I., late Commissioner, Magwe,
Upper Burma, and to Surgeon Brooks of the Indian
Medical Service, who together pulled me through a
serious illness at Fort Hertz.

; F, K. W.

LONDON, 1920.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

PAGE

IN THE JUNGLE : : : : : 17
CHAPTER II

LIFE AT A FRONTIER Fort. J : ‘ 33

CHAPTER III

Tur Forest or WINDS AND WATERS ‘ : 51
CHAPTER IV

FEVER CAMP. d : : : 65
CHAPTER V

ASCENT OF A VIRGIN PEAK . ‘ : - 81
CHAPTER VI

IN THE TEMPERATE RAIN FOREST. ; . 96

CHAPTER VII
IN THE LAND OF THE CROSSBOW : i : 110

CHAPTER VIII

OvER THE WuULAW Pass eG 3 } : 126
CHAPTER IX

By THE SINGING RIVER Sa ee ; , 141
CHAPTER X

AMONG THE Marus . hy : , 151

CHAPTER XI
THE Lone TRAIL ; . : 167

CHAPTER XII
AMONG THE LisuUs ‘ " : 183

CONTENTS
A, CHAPTER XIII
SPERATE Marco.

if CHAPTER XIV
INITE TORMENT OF LEECHES i

CHAPTER XV
‘HE PLAINS.
CHAPTER XVI
OUGH THE Kacuin HIL1s
| CHAPTER XVII
ACK TO CIVILISATION. —.. :

CHAPTER XVIII

imo. Vagtes

228

244

203

395

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Maru Maidens . : : : : Frontispiece —
PAGE
The Mighty Mahseer . : : 25
Cane Bridge over the Ngawchang River . : : 25
A Maru Matron . é ‘ ' : : 72
Yawyin Children . ; , 88
Imaw Bum in June : 88
A Yawyin Lisu Family on the Burma Frontier . é 112
Maru Women pounding Maize . : : 152
Young Nungs_. : : ; : : 168
A Black Lisu of the Ahkyang. ; : 184
A Black Lisu Girl ; Me : a 184
Nung Maidens . __.. : Be ; 192
An Iron Smelter . ; ; : . ‘ 192
A Maru Grave . , : : . 208
A Nung Rope Bridge. 5 : ; 208
A Duleng Village : f : ; 216

Shan Girls, Hkamti Long \ ; ; 216
12

- LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 13

PAGE

Girl ginning Cotton . ; : 224

oak Bridge ani: : ‘ ; ive 232
Monastery, Putao Village . F ‘ é 232
ious Festival on the Hkamti Plain . as.
hin Village on the Burma Frontier ; , 248

hin Raft on the Mali Hka . ; : 264

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THE BURMESE HINTERLAND
» an almost unknown tract between the rivers Mali kha and ’Nmai kha,

still unadministere

‘¢ Triangle,

Showing the

The Author’s route . .

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‘IN FARTHEST BURMA

CHAPTER I

y IN THE JUNGLE

‘T= fateful year 1914 found me back in Burma
ready to pursue my botanical researches in
another direction.

Throughout 1913 I had continued those investiga-
tions, begun in 1911, of the flora of North-West
Yun-nan, to which reference is made in a previous
work *—investigations carried into South-East Tibet
on the one hand and as far as the frontiers of re-
-motest Burma on the other. I now determined to
see something of the Burmese hinterland from
within.

In coming to this decision I was partly influenced
by recent events on the North-East Frontier, which
besides drawing my attention to a previously un-
explored region had made access to it easier than
hitherto, .

For several years past the nebulous country where
Burma, China, Tibet and Assam meet had been the
scene of political collisions which threatened to blaze
up in the firmament of Indian frontier politics as an

1 The Land of the Blue Poppy, by F. Kingdon Ward. Cambridge
University Press, 1913.

B 17

18 IN THE JUNGLE |

incandescent body of uncertain behaviour. When at
last out of this growing welter things resolved them-
selves, the climax was soon reached in the British
occupation of Hkamti Long, a small plain surrounded
by high mountains some two hundred miles north of
Myitkyina.

Here, completely cut off from their relations in the
south by savage tribes inhabiting the densely forested
mountains which enclose the plain on all sides, have
dwelt for centuries an isolated colony of Shans,
numbering to-day only a few hundred families, Just
previous to this occupation, the more immediate valleys
to the east and north-east of Myitkyina on the Burma-
Yun-nan frontier had also been brought under the
direct control of the Burma Government and the
frontier for some distance north delimited; and it was
primarily in this direction—namely, up the valley of
the ’Nmai hka, or eastern branch of the Irrawaddy and
its tributaries—that I proposed to carry on my
work.

The ranges of the extreme Burma-Yun-nan frontier,
which are crowned by peaks 13,000 feet high, belong
to the same mountain system as the Sino-Tibetan
ranges farther north, where I had started my explora-
tions, and, as will be subsequently pointed out, may
even be in direct communication with them.

I therefore planned a visit to the mountain ranges
‘of the North-East’ Frontier, on the borders of Yun-nan,
to be followed if practicable by an extended recon-
naissance up the Burma-China frontier and across to
the newly occupied post at Hkamti Long, whence
I hoped eventually to reach Assam.

How this programme was only partly carried out

IN THE JUNGLE 19

in the face of sickness, the unimaginable difficulties
of this terrible country and the crowning thunderbolt
which fell on Europe in August, 1914—of which, how-
ever, I knew nothing until 23rd September, when I was
yet twenty-four marches from the railway—is related
in the following chapters.

Towards the end of April I left Rangoon for

Myitkyina, the northern terminus of the Burma rail-
way, 720 miles distant, whence I had started for China
IN 1913.
, Although Bhamo, 600 miles from the sea, is con-
sidered the head of steam navigation on the Irrawaddy,
small launches can and do ascend the famous first defile
above Bhamo in the dry season, when the water is low;
and from Myitkyina, where the river broadens out
again, it is possible to ascend another twenty miles to
the confluence of the Mali hka and the ’Nmai hka, nearly
1000 miles from the sea. Beyond the confluence, how-
ever, steam navigation is impossible either up the
?Nmai hka, the eastern branch and true source stream
of the Irrawaddy, or up the western branch, called the
Mali hka; but whereas the former is an enormously
tempestuous river rushing along at the bottom of
a deep cleft in the mountains, comparable in all respects
with the great Tibetan rivers such as the Mekong and
Salween, and hence unnavigable for any kind of craft,
the latter is navigable for shallow draught country
boats at least as far north as ’N sop-zup, and for
Kachin rafts a good deal farther.

Little did I realise that some of the military police
officers I now met in the Myitykina club would, ere
a year had passed, lie dead in France with the glorious
epitaph, “Killed in Action,” inscribed over their graves,

20 IN THE JUNGLE

while others, still happily living, would be veterans in
war.

We crossed the Irrawaddy, whose waters had risen
suddenly in the course of a night, to Waingmaw on
3oth April, but on the following afternoon I returned
to Myitkyina, leaving my caravan waiting for me at
Waingmaw, and did not get back again till nearly mid-
night. Leaving Myitkyina after dinner, I hired a
country boat and by the light of a crescent moon we
dropped down with the current. It was cool and rest-
ful out here on the bosom of the great river. In the
west the setting moon hung poised over the ebony
mountain ranges, throwing a band of silver across the
water which danced and frolicked under the bluff
where the current ran swiftly. The stars, reflected
deep down in the placid stream of mid-river, twinkled
brilliantly, and the warm scent of the jungle filled the
air. There was no sound save now and again the
slapping of saucy waves against the side of the boat
and the crooning song of the Burman perched in the
stern steering—the boatman forward,.who completed
the crew, had dropped off to sleep as soon as he had
paddled us out into mid-river.

So I lay back and drank in the beauties of the
night. How wonderful it would be to go on
drifting, drifting down the stream always; but the
thought was momentary, there was stern work ahead.
I could not afford to live ina dream world, and when
the boat grated on sand under the high bank at
Waingmaw I came out of my reverie.

On 2nd May we started down the straight road
through the half-leafless monsoon jungle to the Shan —
village of Wauhsaung, where the road branches. I

IN THE JUNGLE 21

had with me twelve mules, looked after by three
Chinese muleteers, hired in Myitkyina, who would
take me as far as Hpimaw; and two Chinese servants
of my own, one from distant Li-kiang, who had
accompanied me to Burma on my return from Yun-nan
a month before, and one from Myitkyina, who spoke a
Jittle Burmese and might, I thought, be useful on the
frontier for that reason, though as a matter of fact
we were very soon beyond the range of any Burman-
speaking people. The name of the former was T‘ung-
ch‘ien, that of the latter Lao-niu, or “old cow,” to
translate it.

At Wauhsaung we turned aside from the main road
via Sadon to T‘eng-yueh, for my destination was not
- Yun-nan, but the frontier region itself, and I intended
to follow the frontier northwards, keeping on the
Burma side, till I reached mountains of sufficient altitude
to support a true alpine flora, Two years before we
should, after leaving Wauhsaung, have found ourselves
on a jungle path, with unbridged rivers; but in 1912
a good mule road had been made by the Public Works
Department as far as Hpimaw, the last occupied post
on the frontier, fourteen stages from Waingmaw.

The journey divides itself very naturally into two
parts.

For the first seven stages the road keeps to the
low-lying country and foot-hills in the valley of the
_*Nmai hka, closely following the river, which is generally
visible, or at least audible; then it leaves the main
river and, crossing a high ridge, winds up and down
amongst the tangled jungle-clad mountains lying
between the *"Nmai hka and the Salween-Irrawaddy
watershed, whose crest marks the frontier, eventually

22 IN THE JUNGLE

following the valley of the Ngawchang hka, a big
tributary of the 7>Nmai hka.,'

On 3rd May we marched seventeen miles to a small
Shan village, where I slept in the local Buddhist
temple, a plain bamboo hut thatched with palm leaves,
and distinguished from the residential huts chiefly by
several umbrellas suspended from the roof over an altar
adorned with two wooden Buddhas. ‘The road through
the forest was monotonously level all the way, and I
saw few flowers save one or two orchids in the grass
by the wayside, and a sturdy pyramidal Curcuma with
lemon-yellow flowers concealed beneath a scale armour
of pink-tipped bracts which grows commonly in open
forest glades throughout Upper Burma.

It was only a few miles to the military police post
of Seniku, perched on a hill above the Tumpang hka,
where we arrived at midday on the 4th. Herel was
only too glad to rest in the excellent bungalow pro-
vided, for the heat was oppressive. In the afternoon
a breeze sprang up, and through the growing mistiness-
vast clouds could be seen taking shape.

The view from the bungalow over the Kachin hills,
with the silver streak of the 7Nmai hka gleaming below,
is very fine; in the distance the faint outline of
mountains can be discerned. Huge columns of black
smoke rose into the air from the burning jungle, which
roared and crackled all round us; it was being burnt
for clearings, and though it seems a sin to destroy in a
few hours what it has taken perhaps centuries to build
up, still man must be served.

On 5th May, after crossing the Tumpang hka, a con-

1 The word hka, which is of frequent occurrence, is the Kachin word
for river. ; !

IN THE JUNGLE 23

tinuous roar filled our ears, and at last we glimpsed
the "Nmai hka through a screen of bamboos; later on
we came right down to it, a powerful river, rushing
swiftly amongst the rocks,

In the distance high mountains were beginning to
lift up their heads. The monsoon jungle was full of
strange noises, which ceased. mysteriously as soon as
one stopped to listen. A rustling of dry leaves—
lizards scampering about under the bamboos; a depre-
cating cough overhead—monkeys are watching our
every movement. |

It is a most eerie sensation to feel that you are being
watched by scores of half-human creatures hidden in
the trees and quite invisible. If you stand still a
moment there will gradually steal over the jungle a
dead silence, broken presently by a little purr; if you
are quick you may catch sight of a monkey playing
peep-bo with you in a tree, but as soon as he feels he
is spotted the head is withdrawn behind a branch and
a moment later poked carefully round the other side.
Suddenly the silent trees are alive with baboons
coughing, grunting like pigs and plunging off into the
jungle; they seem to spring out of the violently
agitated foliage, where a moment before was nothing,
as crowds spring from the paving-stones in big cities.
I suppose a monkey’s first thought is self-preservation ;
his second is undoubtedly an insatiable curiosity.

We passed more fires, the bamboos crackling like
musketry, interrupted now and again by louder ex-
_ plosions. The echo thrown back from the forest was
extraordinary, no less than were the sheets of flame
which leapt into the air and sank down again
immediately.

Mee? IN THE JUNGLE

I had a swim in the Shingaw hka at sundown, which
refreshed me after a fourteen-mile march, and another
on the following morning, when we marched only ten
miles; but we were well into the foot-hills by this
time and the road was nowhere level.

There were plenty of jungle fowl strutting about ;
in the early morning they came out into the open
a good deal, but though noisy they were very wary.

The scenery was daily growing wilder, and pouring
rain all through the night of 6th May and half next
day, with wind and lightning, had warned us to
hasten if we would reach Hpimaw ahead of the
monsoon. |

A heavy thunderstorm by night in the hill jouaias is
an awesome sight. Flashes follow each other with
great rapidity all round the hills, like gun-fire, and
peering through the driving rain you see the maddened
trees suddenly lit up, and then blotted out; a moment
later they are lit up again, fainter this time, as the flash
is farther away; then darkness again. Very faintly
do they show up yet a third time within the space of
a minute—now the flash is miles and miles away and
there is no answering roll of thunder. But all the
time the wind is howling and the rain drumming on the ~
hard, leathery leaves, till gradually the noise dies down
and presently the stars are sparkling in a limpid sky.

May 8th was a day of continuous drizzle. It was
our last day by the ?Nmai hka, and we covered fifteen
miles, On the following day we crossed the Chipwi
River, now very low, and began the ascent of the
Lawkhaung ridge.

At the head of the Chipwi valley is the low Panwa
Pass into China,

ve
Sata
2
7
-

2
ee
ote
ee

és

THE MiGHTY MAHSEER AND THE MONASTERY, PUTAO VILLAGE, HKAMTI PLAIN.
The

The fish was one of Mr. P. M. R. Leonard’s sixty pounders caught in the Mali hka.
men supporting it are Kachins. Photo by P. M. R. Leonard, Esq.
The Nam Hkamti in the foreground. Photo by T. Hare, Esq.

IN THE JUNGLE 25

The junction of the Chipwi with the 7Nmai is one
of the best mahseer’ fishing pools on this road, which
abounds with famous spots. In every bungalow is
kept a fishing record-book wherein you read entries
like the following, written up by officers passing
_ through, or on duty down the road :—

“ April 1oth—Started fishing in the pool at the
junction of the Chipwi hka with the ’Nmai. After
half-an-hour hooked a big fish, which fought for twenty
minutes, when he got away, the line breaking on a rock.”

Or again: “ We began at the lower rapid opposite
the Tammu hka bungalow, and hooked the first fish
in fifteen minutes, with seventy-five yards of line out.
He fought hard at first, but was landed and killed in
half-an-hour.. Weight 604 lbs,”

The Lawkhaung ridge divides the basin of the Chipwi
hka from that of the Ngawchang hka, and is a separating
line between the monsoon forests of Burma and the tem-
perate forests of the mountainous North-East Frontier.

It was a stiff climb up to the military police post of
Lawkhaung, and we were caught in a very heavy rain-
storm before we got there; the monsoon was indeed
close behind us, dogging our footsteps.

There is a considerable Maru village at Lawkhaung,
almost the first we had seen, for they occupy spurs well
back from the river, and are carefully hidden; the Shans
of the Irrawaddy valley we had already left far behind.

The home of the Marus is the valley of the >Nmai hka,
so we scarcely saw them till we reached that river
farther north in September.

Lawkhaung is about 4000 feet above sea-level, and
continuing the ascent next day, we marched by a road

* Mahseer—the big carp, Barbus tor, of Indian rivers.

26 IN THE JUNGLE

cut in the mountain-side through the forest to Peopat,
keeping from 7000 to 8000 feet above sea-level. The
vegetation had changed bewilderingly, and the trees,
with their heads in the chill mist, wept softly; water
gushed and gurgled down all the scuppers of the moun-
tain. Gone were the familiar tattered sheets of the
banana ; gone too the clumps of giant bamboo, the fig-
trees and graceful palms, their place usurped by the
sturdier oaks, magnolias and rhododendrons of a
bleaker clime. On the ground lay, spending their
fragrance, the large milk-white corollas of a splendid
rhododendron. Here they had drifted like snowflakes,
but we looked in vain for any tree from which they
might have fallen; had they been wafted hither on the
breeze, or spread as a couch for some Diana of the
forest? At last the problem was solved—the rhodo-
dendron was epiphytic,’ growing at great heights on the
biggest trees, generally quite invisible from below.

On the glistening purple slates of the mountain
runnels, down which slid thin streams of water, grew
violets and patches of a lovely primula (P. obconica
var.) cooled by the spray. The Jatter has white flowers
with a canary-yellow eye, borne in loose umbels at the
summit of long stems, which rise from amongst the
rough leaves.

Emerging momentarily from the forest above Peopat
—which name is attached to nothing but a bungalow—
we stood on the brink of things, and spanning the in-
tervening valley with a coup d’eil saw, two stages distant
by road, the white speck of Htawgaw fort crowning the
hill-top, a lonely rock washed by a sea of forest.

On the 12th we reached Htawgaw, descending two.

1 R. dendricola, sp. nov.

IN THE JUNGLE a7

or three thousand feet by a break-neck path almost to
_ the Ngawchang river, and then climbing up again to the
fort, which, from an altitude of 6000 feet, commands the
whole valley.

Here the country is drier, the vegetation again
changing; for the high Lawkhaung ridge takes the
first rush of the monsoon on its southern face. Pine-
trees, alders and bracken clothe the intermediate
slopes, and there are bush rhododendrons and Pieris
with beaded spikes of milk-white flowers; but the
vegetation of the deep valley is sub-tropical, and of the
high mountains northern. |

At Htawgaw I met Mr Lowis? of the P.W.D., who
had built the Hpimaw road *—-he was now engaged on
the fort, a compact little building of stone commanding
a splendid view of the Ngawchang valley and the roads
to China by the Hpare and Lagwi passes, both under
10,000 feet; also Captain Enriquez, in command of
the Gurkha military police. Lowis. was going up to
Hpimaw in a day or two, so I waited for him.

Once more attention must be drawn to the physical
barrier maintained by such a mountain range as the
Lawkhaung ridge, actually the watershed between two
big tributaries of the ’Nmai hka—the Chipwi to the
south, the Ngawchang to the north—for after crossing
it we lost sight of the Marus. From Htawgaw onwards
the valley is occupied by Lashis below, by Yawyins
(or Lisus) above.

It is three stages from Htawgaw fort to Hpimaw, the
road lying up the valley of the Ngawchang hka. For
1 Mr C. C, Lowis, C.I.E., Public Works Department.

2 Since this was written a cart-road has been built. It follows a
different alignment between Seniku and Htawgaw, via the Chipwii valley.

28 IN THE JUNGLE

the first half of the journey the valley is comparatively
broad and open, but after Lumpung village the river
gnaws its way through a fine gorge, and it was here we
met with our first cane suspension bridge.

The main supporting cables of rattan, or climbing
palm, which grows in the jungle, are securely spliced to
trees or to a stout scaffolding on either bank; loops of
cane connect the main cables together, forming ‘a
hammock framework, like the rigging of a ship, and
the slender flooring is composed of canes laid lengthwise
along the bottom. Thus in section the bridge resembles ©
the letter V, while a side view of it spanning a broad
river is almost a U; and though simple in idea and
doubtless easily constructed, it is in appearance a
somewhat elaborate structure, chiefly owing to the
complicated supporting tackle at either end.

The bridge, of course, sags tremendously. Sliding
one foot cautiously before the other and clutching the
side cables for support, you start down a steep decline and
having reached the bottom in mid-stream, made giddy
by the unrhythmical swaying of the structure, and by
the rush of water below, ascend the other. ‘Thus in
fear and trembling the perilous passage is effected;
but, like all such ordeals, familiarity soon rabs it of its
terrors—the reality, too, is less alarming than the
appearance—and gripping the side cables with each
hand, one may presently execute an exhilarating pas seul
over mid-river, springing to the elastic recoil. _

The worst bit is always along the naked spar
bridging the gap between the bank and the beginning
of the hammock, through the gaping jaws of the
supporting masts, where it is too wide to admit of
holding on to both sides at once.

IN THE JUNGLE 29

Very similar, cane bridges built by many different
tribes are met with throughout the hill jungles of the
North-East Frontier and Assam and in the Himalayan
foot-hills, at least as far west as Sikkim. The Abor
tubular cane bridge is perhaps the most remarkable of
all.

From Htawgaw fort the road dips steeply to the
Ngawchang and continues up the left bank, finally
crossing the river by an excellent wire suspension
bridge to the village of Lumpung, the first stage.
Just below Htawgaw the Hpare hka, up which lies
the path to the Hpare and Lagwi passes into China, is
crossed.

The valley is crowded with villages dotting the
terraced slopes where rice is grown, and above are
steep hills covered with fern brake and crested with
dark pine-trees, open to the winds.

On the granite rocks in the river bed many scrubby
bushes were in flower, including a small wiry crimson-
flowered rhododendron (R. indicum), now nearly over,
a Pyrus and Hypericum patulum with large golden
flowers.

Par more remarkable was the number and variety
of orchids which grew on the trees, especially on oaks
and alders. ‘They were of the most quaint and varied
description, more grotesque than beautiful, and of all
degrees of blotchiness and colour. I was astonished to
see masses of Dendrobium growing even on the pine-
trees, whose ascetic-looking branches seemed to afford
them neither water, refuge nor adequate support.

The wayside rocks too were thatched with purple
and white Dendrobium. Orchids were most abundant
between about 3000 and 6000 feet altitude.

30 IN THE JUNGLE

On 17th May, in sunny weather, we continued up
the right bank of the river a long stage of fifteen miles
to Black Rock bungalow, situated where the Ngawchang
suddenly changes direction from south to west and
enters the gorge. For miles the road is cut out of the
sheer cliff face, overhanging the river, and it was here
that during the first expedition to Hpimaw, in 1911-
1912, several hundred clumsy Government mules fell,
or had to be pushed, over the precipice, for they either
could not or would not advance and were holding
up those behind. A broader road has been blasted
now.

It was only the Yun-nan mules which saved the first
Hpimaw expedition from being an expensive farce; as
it was, comedy is the word.

From Black Rock bungalow Hpimaw fort is just
visible at the head of the valley, a speck in the moun-
tainous distance. On 18th May we crossed the Ngaw-
chang again by another P.W.D. bridge, and entered
the fertile little Hpimaw valley, whose streams spread
out over a floor of rice-fields, and cascade from terrace
to terrace—the valley that had been the cause of so
much heart-burning in Yun-nan-fu, and of so much

irresolution in Simla. It seemed an unattractive place |

—it was raining now as usual—and an insignificant,

to claim so much attention. But it is by such Tom

Tiddler’s grounds that empires stand or fall.

Lashi women were at work in the paddy swamps—
they did not look a prepossessing lot.

Riding slowly up the winding valley, which narrows
rapidly, we came to the meeting of the waters, one
stream flowing down from the Feng-shui-ling, the other
from the Hpimaw Pass.

IN THE JUNGLE 31

A short distance up the latter valley lay the village
whence the armed might of the Indian Empire had
driven the village pedagogue; but the Government of
India has ever shown itself dilatory and cowardly in
its dealings with the neighbouring power of China,
and astonishingly ignorant.

Had it not been for the Imperialist Hertz,! a real

driving force on the spot, the mandarins of Simla would
assuredly have been bluffed by the mandarins of Yun-
nan-seng over the Hpimaw valley.
What a delicious scene! The force that had
cautiously felt its way for two months from Burma,
fearful of meeting resistance, desperately resolved,
advancing in battle formation into Hpimaw, to be con-
fronted after all the rumours of war that are so
prolific along the China frontier by a courteous old
Chinese schoolmaster! But the Chinaman was in no
hurry. He kept the staff waiting half-an-hour. At
last he appeared.

“Now,” says the 0.C., very stern,. “you must
leave this village.”

“I shall be charmed,” replies the courtly old man,
bowing as only a well-bred Chinaman can'; whereupon
he packs his bedding and marches over the Hpimaw
Pass back into China.

So Hpimaw was occupied by the British, ipuiedakabe
abandoned, and permanently reoccupied the following
year, when the fort was built.

From the meeting waters, fringed with blue irises,
we climbed two thousand feet up the hill to the fort,
perched on a ridge overlooking the village, 8000 feet
above sea-level, passing from spring almost into winter,

1 Mr W. A. Hertz, C.S.I. (see Chapter XVIII.).

32 IN THE JUNGLE
and were welcomed by the commandant * to an excellent

midday breakfast.
And so I settled down in the comands bungalow

at Hpimaw fort.
It was 18th May of the wonderful year 1914.

1 Captain (now Major) J. E. Cruickshank.

CHAPTER II

LIFE AT A FRONTIER FORT

| (5* granite, knotted ‘and corrugated, pleated

and crumpled into bewildering tangles, and
again hacked through and through by destruc-
tive storm waters; stark cliffs of limestone overshadow-
ing the valleys; slopes here clad with rain-drenched
forest, elsewhere so steep and rocky that nothing but
rank grass and desperate grapple-rooted trees find foot-
hold in the short soil; and on a bleak, windy shoulder
where a spur, sweeping down from the crest of the
range, has broken its back and tumbled away in agony
to the deep valley of the brawling Ngawchang hka,
blocking the path to China, stands Hpimaw fort.’
From the commandant’s bungalow just below the
fort itself you look across the marble-clouded valley,
where invisible villages are snugly tucked away in the
folds, to the grey-blue mountain ranges of the 7Nmai hka,
crowned by the gaunt mass of Imaw Bum, white-
furrowed where the snow-choked couloirs spread
fingerwise into the valley. Behind the bungalow
the darkly forested slopes of the main range rise ©
abruptly.

The path to China follows the spur from the fort,
climbing sometimes steeply, sometimes gently, now
perched on the crest, now slipping over and traversing
one or other flank.

1'There is no fort there now ; it has been pulled down.
Cc 33

34 LIFE AT A FRONTIER FORT

The day after my arrival at the fort the commandant
and I set out for the pass.
Tearing our way through thickets of silver-leafed
and waxen-stemmed raspberries, which cover the moun-
tains in astonishing variety, we soon plunged into a forest
of rhododendron, laden with heavy trusses of crimson,
scarlet, pink, white and yellow flowers, like huge
coloured balls. Here in the depth of the jungle massive-
stemmed conifers shoot upwards in all the pride of
their great strength and, outstripping every rival, spread
protecting arms over all the forest. Strapping smooth-
trunked. trees from whose bases radiate thin upstanding
buttress roots like planks on edge, bracing them for the
struggle, bear aloft crowns of foliage like fighting
tops; hideous ropes and ribands of crumpled wood,
disfigured with loathsome-looking \ warts, lie coiled like
snakes in the gloom, and shouldering their way rudely
through the dense foliage, burst into flower far over-
head. Everything is bearded with moss, which has
felted the wooden pillars and hangs in delicate festoons
from the heavy-laden boughs. Orchids cling to niches
in the trees, their milk-white, blunt-nosed roots creeping
out in all directions, flattened against the trunk like
scared lizards and probing ever moisturewards into the
darkest crevices.. Ferns too, apple-green, malachite
and olive, with delicately cut fronds, or strap-shaped
and erect, help to weigh down the groaning branches —
buried beneath alien vegetation.

A rank undergrowth surges waist-high round the
trees, where pale green butterfly orchids (Calanthe
sp.), ferns and Urticaceze contest the ground with
striped cuckoo-pint hiding beneath enormous leaves.’ —

1 Arisema Wallichianum.

LIFE AT A FRONTIER FORT 35

Also let us add this fact: these quaint chocolate, pink
and green striped cuckoo-pints are provided with lids,
the tip’of the lid being drawn out into a delicate lash
which trails on the ground; and the more rainy the
climate, the darker and damper the forest wherein these
plants grow, the longer and slenderer this thread. Of
what use is this strange appendage?’ Is it a fishing-line
hung over the edge of the great cup into the wilderness
below to catch something? Is it a guide rope for guests
bidden to the cup? Is it, perhaps, of no use—now— its
use long since lost, or one of nature’s failures, abandoned?
Whatever it is, nothing could be more curious.

Presently we emerged from the dim forest into sun-
lit meadow where grew mauve primulas with clusters
of little tubular flowers like grape hyacinths (P. /imnoica).
Along the fringe of the forest twining plants with ropy
yellow stems scrambled over the trees—here were
white clematis and cherry-red Schizandra and fragrant
honeysuckle. Far. below, floating like water-lilies on
the sea-green foliage, the milk-washed flowers of a
magnolia gleamed.

But it is the rhododendrons which, chequering the
forested slopes with splashes of colour, charm one to
silence, while the heart seems to cry out with delight.

Here at gooo feet they are great red-barked trees
with tangled branches, and from the fat pointed buds
immense bunches of scented flowers, thrusting aside
the sticky scales, are pushing out—it seems wonderful —
enough how all these perfectly shaped and delicately
coloured corollas can be packed away inside those
closely clasping scales, without injury. But here they
are nevertheless, welling honey and flooding the atmos-
phere with fragrance, while the bees, going mad, tumble

36 LIFE AT A FRONTIER FORT

over each other in their eagerness to take toll of the
passive blossoms. |

One species had leaves of frosted silver and fat
trusses of citron-yellow flowers, thus resembling R.
argenteum.

Here too.grow species of Schima, bee oak,
Ficus, Acer and many other trees.

Up and up, still climbing steeply, at one time
enveloped in a forest of bamboos so thick that one
could not see twenty yards into the brake, and all
clothed in green moss; at another, out on the open
ridge again, brushing through stiff bunches of Pieris,
like white heather. Far down the steeply shelving
hill-side lies the network of tree-girt veins which
gather water from ten thousand hidden springs and,
overflowing, fling it into the pulsing arteries roaring
out of sight.

Grass and bracken grow on this rock-strewn slope,
with bushes of blue-washed Hydrangea, golden-leafed
Buddleia! and willow. Conspicuous too were slender |
trees of Ekinanthus, from every twig of which hung
bunches of striped red cups. In the long grass there
sprang up in June—it was but May when the ©
rhododendrons blotched the mountains with colour
—a beautiful Nomocharis with rosy flowers speckled
with purple at the base, pink geranium, gaudy louse-
worts and other flowers.

Suddenly in the forest we came upon a shady bank
blue with the lovely Primula sonchifolia growing
in careless luxury, as primroses do in a Kent copse.
The path was strewn with fallen corollas, scattered
like jewels, It is a charming plant, with rather the

1 B. limitanea, sp. nov.

LIFE AT A FRONTIER FORT 37

habit of an English primrose, a hemispherical umbel
of azure-blue flowers, each yellow-eyed, springing from
a thickly clustered rosette of dark green leaves.

Up here it really was still winter—there was snow
in one of the gullies.

And now the cold air of the pass itself chilled us,
while borne on the wings of the wind came rushing up
on every side from invisible valleys the rain-clouds,
melting about us as they wrapped round the trees,
twisting and whirling through the branches like smoke.
Drip! Drip! Drip! It was the only sound which
greeted us, for the torrent was out of earshot in the
depths below, and birds are rare and subdued in these
gloomy forests—we saw only some Jong-tailed jays and
gaudy woodpeckers. Perhaps even their spirits are
oppressed by the ceaseless patter of the rain and the
sour smell rising from the sodden leaves whence in a
night spring strange and sickly speckled pilei, spawn
of perpetual twilight.

A deep gash in the mountain ridge—the pass itself,
dipping steeply over into the warm blueness of the
_Salween valley, across which the sun shone brightly
on the wall of mountains opposite, twenty miles away ;
and across those mountains too, deep down in the
bowels of the earth, rumbled the red Mekong, another
warrior river of Tibet.

We stood now on the rim of the Burmese hinterland,
looking into the fair land of China, the threshold of
Yun-nan, which means “Southern Cloudland.”

- On the other side a stony track leads steeply down
towards the Salween. Mules might, with difficulty, be
taken to the top of the pass on our side, but it is doubtful
if they could be taken into China; anyhow, I never saw

38 LIFE AT A FRONTIER FORT

any cross. I was in the Salween valley, not far south
of the Hpimaw pass, in 1911. It is inhabited chiefly
by Shans, and there are no mule-roads there.

The Hpimaw pass is the most southerly pass leading
direct to the Salween valley from Burmese territory,
till that river itself enters Burma in the far south.

Above the pass, which is a gap bitten out of the
ridge, bushes of crimson-flowered rhododendron, grow-
ing amidst a wilderness of rocks and coarse grass,
dotted the mountain-side.

_ The splash of torrents far below, blended into one
continuous murmur, came up faintly on the breeze, and
but for the wind frisking in the grass a great quiet
brooded over these high solitudes,

Gusts of dense cloud boiled silently up from the
white cauldron and shut out everything; its clammy
breath clung to us, and wetted us through, and passed
over, allowing another glimpse into the blue valley of
the Salween, while the dull murmur of the torrents
rose momentarily to a roar, before dying away into
silence again as the next heavy curtain of vapour rushed
up. And far away in sunny China puffs of silver
cumulus rested lightly on the rocky Mekong divide.

Below the fort are steep slopes covered with high
bracken, where grow stately lilies, yellow and white
(Lilium Wallichianum and L. nepalense), purple willow-
herb, royal fern (Osmunda regalis) and hundreds of
sticky wee sundew plants, their glistening leaves out-
spread to entrap flies, which, when entangled, this
murderous little plant innocently sucks to death.?
Here too grows a tall Hedychium with yellow and
white flowers. But the most*lovely species of this

. 1 Drosera peltata, ,

LIFE AT A FRONTIER FORT 39

genus sends up a great candelabrum of cinnabar-red
flowers. It is found in shady thickets, but is not
common. In the wet, shady gullies, where water is
ever dripping, are masses of brightly coloured, glassy-
stemmed balsam in great variety, orange, white and
violet. And everywhere grow trees.

Standing on the flat shoulder of the spur at sunset,

looking down into the vast pit of the valley where the
Ngawchang river flows wrathfully, one could follow
the changeful air currents, traced in condensing and
dissolving vapour as the clouds waxed and waned.
_ The rainfall in the low valleys on the other side of
the Lawkhaung range is much heavier than it is to the
north in the Htawgaw and Hpimaw valleys, and the
clouds from the Burma plains do not at first easily pass
over that range, precipitating themselves against it
instead.

Thus looking south to the mountain wall standing
up between the Chipwi and Ngawchang rivers one
saw tall slate-coloured pillars of cloud with cauliflower
tops mounting skyward, then flinging off grotesquely
shaped puffs which mounted still higher, and melted
away even as they rose, in a vain endeavour to cross
the barrier.

Day after day they beat als ak against that
rocky shore, filling the air with broken cloud spray,
which rushing up on us, fell in drenching showers,
leaving blue sky down the valley; while to the south-
west those slate-coloured pillars still towered over the
distant range in ominous threat, and on-the plains of
- Burma the rain fell in torrents.

Listen—hardly a sound to be heard! It is the hush
of a June night at home; bats, flitting by like shadows,

4o LIFE AT A FRONTIER FORT

pass and repass, a fire-fly glimmers against the trees and
a barking deer cries sharply, once, twice, from the
bracken-clad hill-side. A few stars twinkle in the
blue vault, and the mountains are dimpled into fantastic
forms by light and shadow. But away behind that
barrier pitiless drenching rain.

Not that it never rained at Hpimaw! Fear from it!
Rather was it raining a/ways in a persistent, maddening
drizzle, with breaks of a few days, or a week, now
and then.

It was mid-June when the heavy summer rains
began. Then the mountains were hidden, swathed
in white bandages of cloud; the valley was hidden,
filled to the brim with cloud; and at night dense,
impenetrable mists enveloped the whole world, it
seemed. So I stood one time, a tiny atom on the
brink of the last great precipice of all, with the
waters roaring louder and louder all round me as
the growing torrent lifted up its voice, and all the
world weeping quietly—the most melancholy drip!
drip! drip!—with a horrible inevitableness. And I
struggled to tear aside the grey veil and look out
upon the dangers which beset my soul on every hand,
but could not; for a moment vague trees and cliffs
leered from the other world like giants, and disap-
peared silently, mysteriously, as they had come, when
the heavy white mists boiled over again, while I stood
there on the shoulder of the spur, peering into the
cauldron below; peering till my -eyeballs cracked,
afraid to move, ae still could see nothing, so that a
great fear was upon me, gripping me.

That was fever. But they passed, these wild fancies,
born of the racking fever which came to us all in turn.

LIFE AT A FRONTIER FORT 41

Throughout those days the rain poured through the
roof of the bungalow, and the puddles swelled to pools
on the floor. But the rain passed too, and after the
middle of June came a break.

Hpimaw village lies scattered up the shelving valley
2000 feet below the fort, and is finally pinched out by
converging spurs of the main range.

There are moderate-sized, grass-thatched huts raised
on stilts, with a deep porch in front, surrounded. by
little fenced-in patches of opium—such brilliant colours,
purple, dusky crimson (the colour of port wine when
the lamplight shines through it) and white! The
glaucous green poppy heads were being scratched now,
and fat tears of sticky fluid were oozing from the
wounds and rolling slowly down the side of the globular
capsule, ready to be collected. The opium is used
locally as a prophylactic against fever, not smoked as
in China, but wiped off on a rag, which is then sucked,
or soaked in water to make a beverage! Opium
pellets are also chewed.

Little stony paths, sunk between hedges of raspberry
and St John’s-wort, by purling streams, lead from hut
to hut. By the water are beds of blue iris and Acacia
trees, and in the paddy-fields brilliant blue and gold
Tradescantia, with its furry stamens, and the arrow-shaped
leaves of Sagittaria, familiar to lovers of East Anglia.

The Lashis are allied to the Maru, Chingpaw, Nung,
and others of the Chingpaw or Kachin family inhabiting
the Burmese hinterland. ‘There is a tradition that this
particular tribe originated as a cross between a China-
man and a Maru woman, but however that may be, there
is no doubt of their close relationship to the latter.

They occupy the lower land up the Ngawchang hka

42 LIFE AT A FRONTIER FORT

and its tributaries, their rivals the Yawyins occupying
the dourer stony land above them; the villages of the
latter are perched on the hill-tops. Perhaps a day
will come when the sturdier, hard-working Yawyin will
drive out the lazy, opium-ridden Lashi from the more
fertile lands, even as he himself was originally dis-
possessed by the more numerous Lashi.

The Chinese call the Lashi Ch‘a-shan and the Marus
Lan-su; both tribes are included under the general
Chinese designation, Hsiao-shan-jen, which means simply,
‘¢men of the small hills”; while the 7a-shan-jen, * men
of the big hills,” includes Kachins, Yawyins and some
smaller tribes living higher up. The ordinary Yun-nan
name for the Kachins is Shan-t‘ou—i.e. “ hill-top ” (men).
There is great confusion of names in a region like this,
crowded with different tribes speaking totally different
languages and calling themselves by different names,
while each in turn is differently named by neighbouring
tribes. Moreover, the distribution of tribes such as
the Lashi and Yawyin along the Burma-China frontier
being discontinuous, some living well inside Yun-nan,
others far away down in the Shan states and Burma,
they have adopted the dress, habits and to some
extent language of their dominant neighbour, Chinese
or Burmese; thus we get a further complication in
people of the same tribe calling themselves by different
names in different parts of the country.

All the familiar tribal names on the North-East
Frontier, such as Lashi, Maru, Kachin and Yawyin—
the only ones we need concern ourselves with—are
either so used by the majority of the tribes themselves,
or else are of Kachin or Chinese origin.1 |

1 See Appendix II.

LIFE AT A FRONTIER FORT 43

I have mentioned tribes as living at distinct levels,
one above the other. The explanation is simple.

Speaking generally, the valleys will be more fertile
and have more cultivable land than the hills; they will
naturally, therefore, be occupied in the first instance
by the more powerful tribes, who will remain until
driven out.

Hence we would expect to find that the tribes
occupying the valleys are the most powerful, while
those occupying the highest spurs are the weakest.

The once all-powerful Shans originally occupied the
- fertile plains and valleys of western Yun-nan, and a
large part of Upper Burma, being gradually dispossessed
in the former province by the Chinese; but they still
occupy the Salween valley, and much of Upper Burma,
and the question naturally arises, Why has not this
degenerate remnant been long since driven out of the
_ fertile Salween valley?

The answer is, that the Salween valley is extremely
malarious and the Chinaman cannot live there; the
thoroughly acclimatised Shans, on the other hand,
_ thrive; hence they are left alone. The same argument
applies to other parts of the North-East Frontier. A
formerly powerful tribe took possession of the fertile
lowland valleys, and became acclimatised and, in spite
of degeneration, is now left in possession by more
vigorous tribes, who are relegated to the less fertile
but healthier hill-tops. |

It is said that when the Lashis first came into the
Hpimaw valley they found the Yawyins there and
drove them out by sheer weight of numbers; however
that may be, the Yawyins are now in a fair way to
drive out the Lashis in their turn.

44 LIFE AT A FRONTIER FORT

Possibly, if we had not occupied Hpimaw, Chinese
from beyond the Salween valley would have gradually
come over and squeezed out the Lashis, or at least
obliterated them as a tribe in their own inimitable ey
by absorption.

As to the reputed origin of the Lashis, it is not
indeed a very romantic union anyway—a hard-headed,
practical Chinaman and a half-wild- Maru maid from
the jungle. And truly it is difficult to say a good
word for the Lashis.

The cynical callousness with which a well-favoured
girl—she was only twenty—related the ‘olen story
of love, intrigue and murder makes one’s blood run
cold.

A man from another village wished to take her to
wife, she said, but she refused the offer. Again and
again he had asked her, and still she refused, for she
had another lover. At last, tired of importuning her,
which is not the way of these hill tribes, the man
came to her hut one night and, tying her up, carried
her off, with the help of some friends, to his own
village. |

When she was untied, instead of simply running
away, she plotted revenge, determined to rid herself
for ever of this tedious lover whom she loathed. |
Therefore she tried to poison him, putting aconite in
his food, but failing in this, and growing steadfast in —
her resolve, she cast aside all subterfuge and sought
surer means.

Then in the dead of night she crept to the sleeping
form and drawing his own dah from its wooden sheath
almost severed the hated head from the trunk with a
ferocious blow. ‘The man uttered never a groan, but

LIFE AT A FRONTIER FORT 45

died as he slept, swimming in blood, and she threw the
body from the hut. Next morning, she tells us, she
walked’ calmly to her own village and resumed her
old life.

One can picture the dreadful scene in the lonely
hut—the moonlight glistening on the wet rice-fields all
round and shining through chinks in the mat wall, the
glowing embers in the square hearth, then the drawing
of the keen blade, the measured distance for the stroke,
the wrapped figure lying on the split bamboo floor—
how that floor must have swayed and cracked under
her effort—and the deep breathing of the sleeper.
And finally the flash in the moonlight, and the blow —
dimly aimed in the gloom, but struck well, cutting
_ through helpless flesh and bone, while the blood welled
out silently, staining the slippery bamboo, the cold,
calculating hand which struck again and again in blind
hate, to make certain, chipping the floor,

*¢ And what did you do with the corpse?” she was
asked. 3

“7 threw it outside; it was no use in the hut.”

And she was strong enough to have done it, not a
doubt of that.

The unaffected surprise of the savage girl when
arrested and charged with murder because she had
legitimately rid herself of a man who was repugnant
to her would have been comic in other circumstances.
The ingenuous recital of her wrongs, and the awful
means adopted in order to safeguard her rights,
revealed the primitive law in its ugliest aspect.

More picturesque in his recital of love and intrigue
was the fort interpreter, a wizened but agile old
Chinaman, yet a very Don Juan, who sometimes came

46 LIFE AT A FRONTIER FORT

across to the bungalow in the evenings to teach me —

Burmese.

His home had been in Momien, now called T‘eng-
yueh, over the border in the Yun-nan mountains, but
when he was yet a little child, in the long-forgotten
days of the great Mohammedan rebellion, while Sultan
Suliman ruled half a province by the blue lake of

o ee eS Toe Se

Tali-fu, the city of T‘eng-yueh had been sacked by —

the victorious Panthays, and his house with many
others burnt to the ground, so that his mother was
forced to flee over the mountains to Bhamo, carrying
him on her back.

Settled in Hsin-kai—that is, New Market, as the
Chinese inaptly call Bhamo—for this sleepy town on
the banks of the mile-broad Irrawaddy ill recalls the
bracing chalk hills and ape woods of Cambridgeshire—
he had grown to man’s estate, and when the English
deposed Thibaw and ruled in Bhamo he returned to
his first home to marry.

They are restless folk, these Chinamen of the far
west, and after a few years of domestic life in
T*eng-yueh he had come to Burma.

There, in old Bhamo, he had met his second love ©

and married her—not that he had grown weary of his
first, but simply that business having called him to
Burma it was necessary to have a ménage there. He
recounted his conquests in the field of Eros, and his
dull eyes glistened. ‘I suppose you like your Burma
girl best,” I suggested confidently, thinking of the
dainty butterfly creatures one sees in that charming
land, but he answered warmly:

“No! Za-yen. My wife at T‘eng-yueh is a very
good wife. She is always at home, sewing and doing

LIFE AT A FRONTIER FORT 47

the housework; she never wants things, nor makes
a fuss. But my Burmese girl is sinfully vain. She
wants new silk /one-gyi always and gold bangles more
numerous than Ma-E-Hla next door, and if I won’t
give them to her, threatens to run away. She is very
restless and expensive,” he continued sadly, “and does
-no.work in the house; she wants to live like a princess.”
And the poor old man sighed.

That is so like a Chinaman—always coldly practical,
with no room for sentiment.

Yet was he not satisfied with his experiences, but
going to the jade mines, which lie far away in the
Kachin hills, must needs take a third wife of the
country, this time a Kachin.

No great troubles seem to have ruffled their married

life till he came to Hpimaw, and fearful of falling
amongst even worse barbarians—here he spat signi-
ficantly—wished to take his latest wife with him.
_ But she flatly refused to go—for Hpimaw isa foreign
land, eighteen days’ journey from the jade mines, and
so to his chagrin our Don Juan had to make a settle-
ment on her and come away alone.

Whether he had since contracted any temporary
alliances at Hpimaw he did not divulge, but he spoke
so disparagingly of the Lashis, for whom he had the
bitterest contempt, that I think it unlikely. Nor was
it tactful to inquire too closely. Poor lonely old
man! He had wives all over the country-side, but
they were none of them near him; and like a true
patriot he thought first of his ancestral home in
T*eng-yueh !

_ The Chinaman has the greatest contempt for all the
highland tribesmen; but I sometimes wondered whether

48 LIFE AT A FRONTIER FORT

my friend had contracted a temporary alliance with a
Yawyin maid in the Hpimaw hills. They are nice-
looking girls. |

As to the fort itself—the reader must not suppose
that a fort on the North-East Frontier is a concrete
structure mounting guns. How could it be! Nor are
such defences required. It is simply a small building,
of stone perhaps, or of wood strengthened by walls of
brushwood and grass sods, which will stop bullets.
The walls are loopholed for rifle and machine-gun fire,
and there is an open yard in the middle where, in case
of an attack on the post, the mules can be tethered,
and any extra people taken inside the fort.

Such frontier forts are always built on prominent
spurs, well away from villages, commanding a pass or
road, the first object being to secure a clear field of
fire, jungle being felled and, if necessary, hill-sides cut
away to ensure this.

In the event of trouble on the frontier they are the
refuge for everybody in the post, civil and military,
and it then devolves upon the garrison to hold the fort,
and if possible the road, till help can arrive—which
may be a matter of days. The garrison of Hpimaw
was then about half a company (100 men), with a
couple of machine guns.

These forts, though fulfilling their object, are
naturally more imposing than alarming; they are quite
strong enough to withstand such troubles as brew on
this frontier, and are meant neither for war on the
European scale, which is obviously impossible in such
a country, nor for prolonged resistance. They would —
act as centres of resistance against the rebellions and
sudden outburst which from time to time flash up on

LIFE AT A FRONTIER FORT 49

our Indian frontiers, and die away as suddenly and
mysteriously as comets come out of the unknown and
disappear whence they came. They also serve to
impress and overawe the more truculent tribesmen—to
prevent rather than to meet trouble.

As regards food we were quite comfortably situated,
for though we could procure little in the Hpimaw
valley itself, yet, owing to our proximity to the fertile
regions of Yun-nan, it was a simple matter to send men
over the pass for fowls, eggs, rice and potatoes. In
fine weather Chinamen used to come over with supplies
for sale, but in the summer they came more rarely, and
then I would from time to time send a couple of Lashis
across with orders to get what they could; and after
a week’s absence they would return with perhaps a
hundred eggs and a dozen fowls, bought for a few
rupees.

Eggs seemed to keep indefinitely at Hpimaw—
certainly I often kept them ten days or a fortnight,
only a small percentage going bad; and they may have
been ancient to start with.

So hard up is the North-East Frontier for food, the
villages even in the most favoured districts raising barely
enough for their own subsistence, that my Lashi
collectors always asked me to supply them with rice.
It may be remarked here that the Hpimaw valley and
the Hkamti plain are the only places in the whole vast
area of the Burmese hinterland where lowland paddy
can be grown. Elsewhere mountain rice, buckwheat
and maize are universally cultivated.

We kept a number of fowls at the fort, but they
were sadly decimated from time to time by wild
cats, eagles and perhaps owls, though it may be

so LIFE AT A FRONTIER FORT

that the alleged wild cats sometimes had only two
legs.

Jungle rats were another pest; they swarmed into
our store-rooms at night, and got at anything that was
not tightly shut up in a tin, sometimes even opening
biscuit tins by pushing them off the shelf on to the floor.
They were wily too, and would not look at traps or
poison, however carefully concealed; they really seemed
to reason on such matters,
- The fort commandant also kept up a garden, of
‘which he was pardonably proud, cut out of the steep
side of the kAud; and from this garden he supplied our
table with excellent cabbages, radishes, cauliflowers,
globe artichokes and other succulent vegetables, all
raised from seed. They really did very well consider-
ing the vileness of the climate—or perhaps because of
it, for did it not in some ways resemble the English
climate ?

From time to time the fort commandant went on tour
and I was left alone. These tours, lasting anything from
a week to a fortnight, were confined to such paths as
existed, while my goal was rather off those paths into
the remoter mountains.

But in the first week of June I decided to accompany
him on a trip to the Feng-shui-ling, a pass into China
south of Hpimaw, of which he spoke enthusiastically.

And an account of that journey deserves a chapter to
itself,

ONTARIO

CHAPTER III

THE FOREST OF WINDS AND WATERS

-N a fine June morning we set out for the
() Feng-shui-ling, going straight down the pre-

_ Cipitous hill-side below the fort, through tall
bracken, 2000 feet to a stream, and then up a narrow-
ing valley; but the mules had to keep to the road.

It was rather lucky for me that the commandant had

some mules, as it was difficult to get Lashi porters now,
this being just the time when they were busy planting
their taungya+; and though that is really the women’s
job, the men also have plenty to do for a short time.
__ These taungya are simply hill-sides cleared of jungle.
The jungle is cut after the rains and lies for a few
months. About March, when it is fairly dry, it is set
on fire and the undergrowth burnt out; but the
stumps and big tree trunks are only charred, and the
Jatter lie about in all directions, making progress across
a steep taungya extremely arduous. In the spring the
maize is dibbled into the soil, and ripens in the
autumn.

After the first year the soil is exhausted and the
taungya abandoned to the jungle which quickly springs
up, covering the place with a dense tangle of herbs
and bushes, amongst which small trees soon begin to
appear; while a new faungya is cleared elsewhere—a
complete change of soil instead of a rotation of crops.
1 Taungya—a Burmese word, meaning unirrigated hill-side cultivation,
\ ie
.

52 THE FOREST OF

It is obviously a very wasteful method of cultivation,
but one well suited to such a country.

Down here the air was clammy and oppressive, but
the water clear and cool. Strapping leafy herbs
clothed the banks, with beds of yellow monkey-flower
(Mimulus nepalensis) and purple-spotted bugle and
balsams.

Certain species of the last-named have curiously
swollen nodes, like glass beads, in each of which I

found a tiny grub; these swellings occur only at the.

points where the leaves spring from the stem—that is,
at the nodes.

The path, though steep, and in the forest muddy, ©

presented no difficulty to the mules; and early in the

afternoon, after crossing a low pass, we emerged into an

open bracken-clad meadow and camped by the stream.
Nor far distant, where a boisterous torrent rushed

down from the mountains and disappeared into a gorge,

stood a small village occupied by half-a-dozen Minchia
families from Li-kiang, in Yun-nan.

As usual in these open sunny spaces we were

attended by swarms of persistent blood-sucking flies
—horse-flies, blood-blister flies and sand-flies, against
which there is no sovereign remedy; one must resign
oneself to their attentions and forget the irritation in
other interests.

The blood-blister flies in particular are pernicious —

insects, rather smaller than the common house-fly,

yellow and black like a wasp. Their bite raises'a |

blood blister the size of a pin’s head, which irritates

for a long time, though relief is obtain by pricking |
it and letting out the fluid. The bare legs and arms of |
the natives are speckled with small black dots, caused |

Se aa

WINDS AND WATERS 53

by the punctures of this fly. No doubt the blister-

fly, like the mosquito, carries one of the many forms of
fever suffered in these parts.

Along the stream-side several kinds of raspberry
bore fruit, but many of them were more striking for
their handsome foliage or habit, or for the soft bloom
of wax which whitened their smooth stems, than for the
merit of their fruit; yet some too were luscious, and
I sent home. seed of all the Rubi 1 could find, as it is
a genus well worth study, and no doubt capable of

great things under cultivation. They seem to prefer

granite to limestone—nearly all I found were growing
on granite. |

There was a shrub growing here nearly every leaf
of which bore a small rosy spike on the upper surface,
somewhat resembling a looper caterpillar standing up;
each spike, which was hollow and entered from the
under surface of the leaf, contained a small insect, the
originator of the disfigurement—as it was from the
leaf’s point of view. The resemblance to a caterpillar
was really striking, but otherwise there was nothing
to distinguish the sick leaf from a dozen similarly
disiigured met with in England.

With sunset came a relief from the dripping heat,

_ but an immense halo round the moon presaged rain on

the morrow.

In order to allow ample daylight for settling into
camp, it was our habit to start early, make a single
march and halt finally about two o’clock. Conse-
quently we were up at five o’clock and, after a quick
meal, away into the forest at an hour when most folks
at home are coming down to breakfast.

Our path lay up the big torrent in rich, yet not

54 THE FOREST OF

dense, forest throughout, for there was no bamboo
brake to choke it here. Ferns, orchids and strange
cuckoo-pints carpeted the ground, or hung from trees,
with sometimes blue iris and giant lilies in open dells.
But trees and shrubs were in greatest variety, including
several rhododendrons, one with white flowers smelling
sweetly of nutmeg (R. megacalyx, sp. noy.); another,
and this, as previously related, a small shrub, always
growing epiphytically high up on big trees, whose
large white flowers, blotched with lemon-yellow at
the base, were the sweetest scented in the world
(R. dendricola).

There were also Deutzia, smothered in soft pink
blossom like Japanese silk, and ropes of snowy-white
clematis hanging over the bushes. The lovely Luculia
gratissima also flourished here. Dak

In the gloomiest depths of the forest we came upon
a primula, since called P. seclusa, which from a cluster
of large rugged dark green leaves sends up tall scapes
bearing several tiers of crimson flowers.

At one place in the forest there was a clay bank
overhanging a stream—we were crossing a high spur
at the time and must have been nearly gooo feet up
then—covered with a mosaic of rough-leafed primulas
bearing umbels of little cups filled with seed. They
were allied to P. sonchifolia, and, like it, blue-flowered,
the commandant told me; he had seen them in bloom
as early as February, when snow still lay on the ground.
One could imagine what that bank looked like, sheeted
with blue while the sluggish forest was still half asleep
under its snowy blanket, and every stream tumbling
and frothing down its muddy channel as the gleaming
ice melted.

WINDS AND WATERS 55

Here too flourished Beesia cordata, a novel genus of
- Ranunculacee.

_ Immense trees towered all round us. Some were >
draped with long streamers of moss, others richly
covered with ferns and orchids; a few supported small
bushes of the most fragrant rhododendrons, whose
handsome corollas dappled the ground.

Having made good progress through the forest,
we camped at a spot selected by the Lashis who
had been sent on ahead to clear the track—a
small knoll overlooking the now shrunken stream.
Emerging next day from an oak forest interspersed
with rhododendrons and holly, we reached a big
stream, its banks so thickly overgrown with bamboo
that we had to wade knee-deep through the chilly
water of the stream itself. The mules enjoyed
this, splashing lustily, and when the sun broke
through the clouds, and sparkled on the chattering
water, it was delightful, save for the leeches which
we collected.

Paddling thus slowly up the stream, we came from
time to time into the most enchanting meads, where
the little valley broadened. Here the grass was purple
with Primula Beesiana, and the shallow waters dotted
with tall yellow cowslips, which were not cowslips in
fact, but Primula helodoxa, growing on the banks, on
gravel islands, on fallen tree trunks, in careless pro-
fusion. And there were flowering bushes all round
us instead of forest, thickets of buckthorn and rose,
wayfaring-tree, barberry and honeysuckle, amongst
which sprang up white lilies, tall as grenadiers
(LZ. giganteum), marsh marigolds and grasping coils of
yellow-flowered Codonopsis, sunning itself as it sprawled

56 THE FOREST OF

carelessly over the surrounding plants like a rich
exquisite.

Most lovely of all, hiding shyly within the dark
bamboo groves, was a meadow-rue, its large white
flowers borne singly, half nodding amongst the maiden-
hair leaves, so that in the gloom of the brake they
looked like snowflakes floating through a forest of
ferns. I called it the snowflake meadow-ie seer is
none more beautiful.

«< Why, what a paradise of flowers!” I said to my
companion. ‘Who would have thought that these
sorrowful mountains and dim, dripping forests held such
treasures ! ”

“It is pretty,” he replied. ‘I thought you might
find something interesting at the Feng-shui-ling.”

‘‘Fen-shui-ling! Is that what they call it? Why,
that may well mean ‘ the pass of the winds and waters.” *
Certainly there is water enough” (we were still pad-
dling up-stream). ‘* Better did sui call it ¢ Hua-shui-lin’
—the forest of flowers and waters.”

It was indeed a watery valley, full of wet meadows,
rank forest and rushing streams.

After a mile or two we left the water and broke
through the bamboo lining by a muddy path which
ascended sharply to an open meadow, and here we
camped amidst the flowers. Close around us on every
side rose densely wooded mountains which poured ten
thousand tributary rills down into the bamboo-choked
streams; and I wondered how we should get back
here in August when the waters rose in flood. Not

1 It is impossible to tell from the sound of Chinese words what they
mean, so many different words having the same sound, But the
written characters at once distinguish them.

WINDS AND WATERS a

far above us a bare limestone cliff overhung the
pass.

It had taken us only three hours, travelling slowly,
to reach this spot—altitude about 8000 feet—and after
lunch we set out to climb the last 1000 feet to the pass.

Crossing several swamps, where yellow primulas
clustered, we entered forest again, ascending steeply by
an execrable path. A big rhododendron with enormous
leaves (R. sino-grande) and a giant conifer* were con-
spicuous trees here, and, as usual, there was a hanging
garden between earth and sky, chiefly of a lovely white
orchid. An Aristolochia with quaintly bent yellow
flowers like a Dutchman’s pipe lolled over a bush.
Presently we met a party of Yawyins from China,
amongst whom was a remarkably pretty little girl; but
they were very shy.

The summit of the pass is flat, overshadowed by the
high cliff seen from below, which rears itself straight
up from a bog at its foot. Many plants were coming
on here, but there was scarcely anything in flower yet,
and I waded through it with an eye open for snakes, of
which we had seen several venomous-looking ones in
the marshes round our camp.

The path down the other side leads to Ming-kuan,
a fertile and populous valley north of 'T‘eng-yueh, at
the source of the Shweli river in Yun-nan. Again we
stood on the edge of the Burmese hinterland looking
into the fair land of China.

It is by this route that the coolies carry the coffin
planks from the upper Ngawchang valley to Yun-nan
(see Chapter VII.).

The Feng-shui-ling, though immediately south of

1 Pseudotsuga sp.

58 THE FOREST OF

Hpimaw, is not, as a matter of fact, on the main water-
shed, which throws off a long spur here; from the
angle formed by this spur with the main divide rises
the Shweli, a big tributary of the Irrawaddy. Descend-
ing into China from the Feng-shui-ling, the traveller,
after crossing the western branch of the Shweli, finds
a range of hills between him and the eastern branch of
that river, and then a range of high mountains, the
main divide in fact, between the eastern branch of the
Shweli and the Salween.

The Shweli thus divides into two branches, exactly
as does the Irrawaddy. |

Returning to camp, we found that the orderly had
bagged a brace of bamboo partridge for dinner, while
the servants had collected a basketful of deliciously
flavoured little strawberries? for our tea. The meadow
in which we were camped—an irregular-shaped knoll
with outcrops of bush-clad rocks, saved only by its slight
elevation from being a marsh—was indeed studded with
this fruit, offering us an ample supply daily.

There is plenty of game in these forests, but the
jungle is too thick for shikaring, at least in the summer,
and conditions are all against it. Tree bear used to
come in quite close to the fort sometimes, and there |
were plenty of barking deer about. Serow are not
rare either. Early winter would probably be the best
time, when the leaves are off some of the trees and the
weather set fine for a month or two.

As at all moderate elevations on the North-East
Frontier, insect pests were legion—here it was the

1 Two species of Fragaria are found here. One has scarlet fruit,
almost tasteless, the other, F. nhilgarenses, has white sweetly flavoured
fruit.

WINDS AND WATERS 59

common fly and the horse-fly by day, and the inevitable
sand-fly by night. Add to these the onslaught of
ticks and leeches as soon as one stirred out of camp,
and it will be realised that there are very real dis-
comforts to be faced on the North-East Frontier during
the rainy summer months. Two days spent here
enabled me to climb one of the surrounding limestone
peaks which reared its head almost directly above us,
so near that from its summit it seemed one might toss
a pebble amongst the tents, yet separated by a deep
belt of that accursed bamboo brake, through which it
was necessary to find a passage.

At the first attempt I charged boldly into the
obstacle, but after getting covered with leeches, which
crept into my boots and lodged in my hair, I ac-
complished nothing; for losing my bearings as I crawled
this way and that, I eventually surmounted the brake,
only to climb—the wrong peak! ,

But at the second attempt, my route being more
carefully worked out beforehand, I crossed the belt
of bamboo without difficulty and found myself on the
flanks of the mountain. ;

Thence to the summit was easy going, for on the
steeper slopes the undergrowth was no hindrance, the
forest being open. One face of the mountain com-
prised a step-like series of precipices, separated by
narrow tree-clad ledges, along which it was possible
to scramble; and in these mossy nooks grew many
interesting plants, including Primula fragilis, Androsace
axillaris and a grotesque chocolate-red slipper orchid
(Cypripedium sp.), springing stemless from between
a pair of broad heart-shaped glistening leaves which
hugged the ground.

60 THE FOREST OF

It was a Dwarf in stature, it was full-grown in
‘the size of its leaves and flowers, appearing, there-
fore, deformed. ‘Towards the top of the peak were
small rhododendron-trees massed with white flowers
of large size, and the summit itself was covered with
compact wiry shrubs, amongst which I noticed species
of Cotoneaster, yellow jasmine and Weigelia.

I got back to camp drenched and tired; but the
Lashis were happy as ever, sitting in camp combing
out their black locks, with great deliberation—a
favourite and superior performance of theirs, evidently
learnt from the Chinese.

I was itching all over from leech bites that night,
and though we warned off the sand-flies to some
extent with a cigarette smoke screen, it was long
before sleep came, and then it was but an uneasy
slumber.

Starting homewards next day, we soon reached
our first forest camp. Outside in the meadow was
bright sunshine, but only a ray here and there pierced
the foliage to greet us.

June gth too was a sunny day, and we travelled
slowly, as I wanted to collect seed of the early flowering
primulas which covered the clay bank. We found
a glorious crimson rhododendron? in full bloom, and ~
the “nutmeg” rhododendron scented the path with
its delicate fragrance.

Arrived at the Minchia village, we were soon visited
in camp by our Chinese friends, and later I went with
them to see what I could buy, returning with a goat
(price, three rupees twelve annas) and a side of bacon
(price, three rupees),

1 R. facetum, sp, nov.

WINDS AND WATERS 61

A woman who was amongst the visitors wore a pair
of those tasselled silver earrings that you see in parts
of Yun-nan, which caused the commandant to break
the Tenth Commandment. He asked me to open
negotiations with the good lady, and thereupon began
one of those interminable discussions in which the
Chinese, so expert, revel; not, it would seem, solely
with the idea of scoring off a rival, since John will sell
you an article for three ounces of silver, after pro-
longed argument, which he would not think of parting
with for ¢aels} 3°10 before you had discussed the
weather; presumably then, partly for the sheer love
of argument.

Of course I was no match for the matron with the
earrings, but I played the game as it is played in China.

“That’s pretty!” I said, fingering the bauble.
‘““Where did you get it?”

“In Li-kiang, ta-sen.”

“Li-kiang! I know Li-kiang. Iwas there last year
for the great fair at the temple of the water dragon.”

It is considered diplomatic in negotiations of this
sort not to talk of the matter in hand; you refer
to it casually later, as a postscript. Europeans have
earned an unenviable reputation for bluntness with
polite Chinamen, owing to their fatal habit of coming
straight to the point. We talk “all of a heap,” as
the mandarins say.

“Ah yes! many people come to the fair from all
parts.”

«Even so! I bought a horse from a Tibetan there
for Tls. 40. Do you want to sell these earrings?”

1 A tael, written T1., is a Chinese ounce of silver. In the interior
of China lump silver is weighed out in payment for things,

62 THE FOREST OF

““These? I will sell this bangle for four rupees.”

“<I do not want the bangle, and I have not got four
rupees. It is a pretty bangle nevertheless, and I will
give you three rupees. How much did you say for the
earrings?”

“Four rupees ”—taking one off.

“‘It is too much. Jam a poor man, but I will give
you two. Why did you leave Li-kiang?”

“It was arranged that I was to marry a neighbour,
according to Chinese custom. But I ran away from
home with my lover, and we came to Ming-kuan.
When the soldiers came to Ming-kuan, at the time
of the great rising during the ninth moon three
years ago, we crossed the mountains and settled
here, under protection of the English.”

““China is a beautiful country. The Chinese are
peaceful, but the soldiers are wicked men. Next
year, at the time of the grain rain [April], I shall
return to Li-kiang. How much did you say for the
earrings?” |

“‘ Ta-jen is a Government official, therefore he is
rich, You shall have them for three and a half
rupees.”

“‘Only Chinese Government officials are rich. Let
me see the earrings. They are not very good, and
I will not buy them. I have travelled all over China—
it is a beautiful country.”

“Food is cheap there. How much will ta-jen give
for the earrings?”

‘<T will give two rupees for the bangle.”

“No, the earrings—how much, ta-jen?”

“I do not want them, but I will give two rupees.”

“Take them, ¢a-jen; three rupees.”

WINDS AND WATERS 63

“ All right, two rupees eight annas—-it is very dear,
but what does it matter!”

After that transaction was disposed of the commer-
cial spirit became contagious, and people drifted into
camp with all sorts of ridiculous articles for sale,
including their clothes and bedding.

The idea was abroad that we were -prepared to
purchase the entire village, and the simple folk would,
I believe, readily have parted with most of it in
exchange for our bright rupees. As I had played
the distinguished role of middleman in such business
as was transacted—and no business, from a marriage
to a railway contract, is ever conducted in China with-
out that important functionary—the village headman
sent me round a stone bottle of that fiery and inebriat-
ing Chinese wine called /siao-chiu, made from rice,
which both looks and tastes like methylated spirit, and
having, as in duty bound, tasted it, I passed it on to the
men, with a note of warning.

It being the night of the full moon, a woman whose
husband had died a few months previously was
sacrificing a small porker and visiting the grave, for
it is the Chinese custom, on the 1st and 15th of the
moon, to visit the graves of the departed and send
imaginary remittances of silver and the commodities
of this world to the inhabitants of the spirit world.

By morning all our bread had turned bright green,
and it was evident that the rains were approaching.
‘The added burden of a continuous high temperature
to places which have a summer rainfall of eighty or
ninety inches, as in many parts of Burma, favours a
luxuriant growth of mould on articles such as boots,

1 Hsiao-chiu—literally ** small wine,” as we should say small beer.

64 FOREST OF WINDS AND WATERS.

bread, books and other things, while such articles as
are in some measure stuck together—cameras, for
instance, and again books—become unstuck.

It was a hot march back, for the sun beat fiercely
into the enclosed valley, which exuded water every-
where, turning the atmosphere into a vapour bath,
so that we sweated abominably. Even after toiling
up out of the steaminess to the fort on the open
ridge we found it warm enough on such a day; but
the clouds clustered ominously over the Pass of the
Winds and Waters.

However, it had been both an enjoyable and success-
ful week, and we got back just before the rain began
in earnest.

CHAPTER IV

FEVER CAMP

' , 4 HAT so jolly as a bright day after a fort-
night’s grey skies and ceaseless rain! I
In the laughing sunshine, the delicately
dressed trees flaunting their flowers and leaves, the
proud mountains watching over their first-born valleys
throbbing with the rush of new life-giving liquid, the
exquisite blue heavens where float a few wads of silver
cloud, we perceive God; and the surge of thankful-
ness for life which rushes up from the depths of our
hearts, overwhelming expression, so that we gaze on
the scene in a rapture of mute ecstasy—this feeling
too is of God. Would that we might continue to
live in the glow of that Divine inspiration! At least
it is something to have realised, if only for the
moment, our own divine nature and our oneness
with God.

Thus I mused one fresh morning after weary days
of rain as I stood outside the fort, gazing across the
gaping valley of the Ngawchang to the rippling forests
and snow-smeared screes of Imaw Bum,! and beheld in
those splendid mountains a world of romance, from
which the veil must be torn aside. The whole scene
was wrapped in a soft blue film, the distance streaked
_ with white snow which stood out in amazing relief;
and at sunset long waves of stratus cloud lapped against

1 Height, 13,371 feet.
E 65

66 FEVER CAMP

the indigo rocks, where they projected from the dark-
ness of the valley.

Two days later, therefore, on 22nd June, we set out,
making a bee-line for a low col opposite the fort, and
thence straight down to the Ngawchang river, rather
than follow the long mule-road down the Hpimaw
valley to its junction with the main valley, and up the
latter again.

In this wise we descended by the zigzag footpath
to Hpimaw village, crossed the head of the valley, and
so up the opposite slope to the col which separates
a sugar-loaf limestone peak, called Laksang Bum, from
the main range.

On the far side of the col lay zaungya—mountain
cultivation—with felled giant tree trunks, blackened
by fire, confusedly piled in every direction, making the
way arduous; but the view of high mountains right
before us, framed between gaping spurs, lured us
forward. In the June twilight we came on three
wooden Yawyin huts, perched on the bleak crest of
the ridge which plunged steeply to the valley below,
and hired a guide from amongst the inhabitants.

Then on down the steep limestone slope, its crisp
turf speckled with stunted bushes of Cotoneaster, oak
and white-flowered Bauhinia, till, as night deepened, we
reached a splashing torrent in the valley.

On again through the leafy darkness of the stream
bed to another Yawyin village, where we halted; but
our night’s slumber was rudely interrupted by the rival
cries of dogs and babies.

Besides my two Chinese servants, Yawyin guide and
eight Lashi porters, I had with me two hired collectors, —
odd little fellows, lazy and unenterprising to a degree.

FEVER CAMP 67

Bum-pat in particular was a stumpy-legged, flat-nosed,
pudding-faced little rascal, but a pocket Hercules when
he chose to exert himself. He loved to pluck flowers
by the wayside, not for my pleasure, but to set jauntily
in the wide bamboo tubes which were thrust through
his ragged ear-lobes; small brass rings hung likewise
from these same tubes, and strips of scarlet cloth
were threaded through other holes in the upper
lobe of each ear. Beside him the ttall, lantern-
jawed Yawyin, with his plain bag hung over one
shoulder and his long dah over the other, looked
almost simple.

Reaching the Ngawchang next day, we followed a
path up-stream by tangled hedges of bramble, climbing
fern (Lygodium sp.) and white sprays of Polygonum,
through luxuriant meadows, across water-logged rice-
fields whence rose the fat-away gurgle of invisible
streams spilling over from one terrace to the next, into
dark, forested gullies full of ferns and blue forget-me-
not and velvet-leafed rock plants, to a cane suspension
bridge spanning the gorge.

Here the cliffs were hung with a curtain of creepers,
dependent from giant trees, and from the wet crevices
sprang a wealth of ferns, begonias and clusters of
violet, waxen-flowered didissandra.

The swaying bridge, so flimsy in appearance, so
strong in fact, is thirty yards long, and seems to swing
in an everlasting wind driven through the gorge by
the water rushing along below; however, we crossed
without incident, and then came a steep climb up the
cliff to the open paddy-land above.

‘Working in the fields, with their already short skirts
tucked still higher, were several stout-limbed Lashi

68 FEVER CAMP

girls, who exchanged loud-voiced greeting with my
men. " .

“What savages!” cried Tung-ch‘ien, thinking of
the demure matrons of China. “Look at their feet!
Look at their hair! They are not dressed!”

And indeed his disparaging remarks were merited,
for our Amazons were wading in the mud, and had,
besides tucking up their skirts, thrown aside their
jackets, displaying ample breasts. ‘Their coarse black
hair, which so aroused Tung’s derision, was cut in a
fringe round the forehead, like a mop, and tied in a
knot on top of the head; their feet were bare, number
eights, rather a contrast to the “ six-inch gold lilies” of
Tung’s fellow-countrywomen. Through the pendulous
lobes of their distorted ears were thrust large bamboo
tubes, supporting in turn heavy brass rings; and clumsy
silver hoops loosely embraced their stout necks, hanging
over the breast, with a tangle of bead necklaces. .
Altogether, what with their awkward movements and
preposterous ornaments, these heavy-featured Lashi
women were not very attractive.

After halting at a hut for lunch, while the Lashis, as
usual, set about combing their locks, we set out to
climb the steep spur fronting us, up which twisted a
narrow path overgrown with thick bush.

The steep, rocky slopes of the Ngawchang Salley
above the scattered paddy pockets on the river terraces
are clothed with coarse grass and bracken, interspersed
with pines and alder-trees; many flowers too, as white
lilies, anemones (A. vitifolia), orchids and meadow-rue
grow in this ragged wilderness. Here and there are
patches of taungya, where meagre crops of maize and
buckwheat struggle up amongst the felled trees; and

FEVER CAMP 69

dense thickets where alders, brambles (Oxyspora sp.),
ferns and twining plants, all fighting ruthlessly for
place, indicate abandoned faungya. But the streams,
flowing in deep, shady gullies, are always choked with
tropica] forest, which thus seems to stripe the hill-side.

Presently, after a short rest on the grassy summit of
a spur, I dropped behind the others, and suddenly
feeling very sick, lay down and lost consciousness. It
was nearly an hour later when I staggered to my feet,
and pushed on up the steep path with leaden footsteps,
halting every few yards. At last two of the porters,
returning from the village which they had long since
reached, carried me the remaining distance.

The kindly Yawyins now put at my disposal an
empty hut, swept and garnished, and for the next two
hours I lay on my bed in a paroxysm of fever, staring
up at the blackened thatch, from which hung festoons
of soot oscillating in the breeze, and at the smoked
bamboo supports, gleaming as though varnished.

After a good night’s sleep I awoke feeling better,
and while the men were packing looked about me.
There were two very pretty young girls in one hut,
gipsy-like, with hazel eyes and abundant black hair;
nor were they so shy as in some of the villages.

Unfortunately the Yawyins chew pan, which dis-
colours the teeth; and, ageing before their time, the
“women at least do not long retain those bonny looks
which so charm the traveller. Moreover, though cleaner
than their cousins the Lashis, still an aversion to water
is sufficiently marked amongst them. However, these
_ defects are scarcely appreciated by a casual glance, and
they are decidedly attractive to the eye.

This village was situated about 3000 feet above the

70 FEVER CAMP

Ngawchang hka, by a stream which tumbled over a
low cliff. Now came a long pull up, buried in scented
bracken, till, having traversed two faces of a pyramid
which forms the corner-stone, so to speak, where the
Ngawchang turns at right angles, we reached the edge

of the forest. It was a hot day, and no water was to be ©

found, so we sat down and made a thorough reconnais-
sance of our position before entering the Stygian dark-
ness of the forest, after which we should have to trust
to a sense of direction scarcely checked by observation.

Ascending thus, we had gradually prised open a
view, hitherto locked away out of sight, into the very
depths of the Ngawchang valley, now seen as a winding
ribbon of filmy blueness, chequered with gleaming
rectangles of paddy-land ; to the north snow shone from
the clouded peaks, while looking back, across the other
bend of the Ngawchang, we saw the distant Salween
divide, ribbed and buttressed between its corroded
grooves.

Matted forest and marbled cloud, with here and
there a yellow lozenge-shaped scar where a limestone
cliff interrupted the slope, or a thread of silver where
some stream leapt from its bed into the air—that was
the view.

:
How slight an impression man has made—can ever

make—on these streaming mountains, whose stony
heart is well hidden beneath the velvet mantle of forest !
For though the life-blood throbs so near the surface,
veiling the world in soft beauty, yet any attempt to
disturb it brings immediate, irreparable disaster in its
train. The beauty indeed is but skin-deep. Cut
away a few trees on those angular slopes and the
hungry water, which has been held in leash watching

FEVER: CAMP a
and waiting, instantly rips bare the hill-side, flinging —
everything pell-mell into the deep-flowing arteries
below, and leaving behind nothing but stark staring
rock, dreadful in its agony, till time and the patient
lichen shall, after long ages, have raised a new film of
soil where moss and ferns may perhaps bind the gaping
wound.

Wherefore any attempt at cultivation is doomed. It
is only in the valleys, or here and there at the mountain
foot where a sufficiency of soil has accumulated, that a
hill clearing can be made. ‘Two crops cannot be raised
on it in successive years—it must be abandoned to the
choking undergrowth which springs up amongst the
fallen tree trunks till, after six or eight years, it can be
burnt, to bear again. Such is the universal method
of raising scattered crops throughout the wilderness of
the North-East Frontier.

Villages are tucked away out of sight in the valleys,
or cling to the lower slopes and spurs, Lashi below,
Yawyin above; and the proud forest tree reigns
supreme in the silence beyond.

We had been on the scorched hill-side, under a hot
sun, nearly five hours when at length we reached the
shelter of the forest. Here we were on the crest of
a ridge and there was still no water to be had, though
the fever had given me a lively thirst. However, our
guide came to the rescue, by cutting down some dead
bamboo haulms, whose stout stems were found to con-
tain plenty of good rain-water, though with a slightly
bitter taste. This was a piece of jungle lore worth
remembering.

The jungle here was very open, almost park-like,
the trees small and moss-covered. , Patches of balsam,

72 FEVER CAMP

iris, ferns, Selaginella and scattered orchids were the
only undergrowth.

Coming presently to a tinkling stream, we halted
near by, and set about making a camp. Bamboos and
saplings were soon cut down, and in the clearings —
rough shelters, roofed with branches and bark, rigged
up, while my tent was pitched on a knoll. Then the
fires were lit and all made snug for the night.

It had been a warm, sunny day, with the promise of
fine weather; we were camped well up on a spur of
the peak to be climbed, with provisions for a week;
success was in sight. The fever attack was, of course,
disconcerting, but I might throw that off; anyhow, we
were out to find a way to the top.

At dusk there came a mutter of thunder, and the
clear sunset sky clouded over rapidly. Louder and
nearer grew the thunder, and with it the wind rose.

Within five minutes of the first warning a terrific
storm rushed upon us, with brilliant flashes of lightning
and drenching rain, The wind tore madly at the tent,
and it looked as if it might be lifted bodily up at any
moment. I was grovelling inside the little bathroom
annexe at the back of the tent, tightening ropes,
when there came a sudden crash, followed by a rend-
ing sound; at the same moment a shower of branches ©
rattled down, and half the tent collapsed! A forty-
foot tree had fallen across it.

I crawled out from the wreckage into the main part
of the tent. The centre pole, bent like a bow, still
held, and one of the support poles leaned at a drunken
angle—indeed the tent might collapse bodily if I did
not look sharp.

Next moment Lao-niu appeared, white in the face

Photo by} A. W. Porter, Esq
A Maru Matron.

The head-cloth shows that she ‘is married. She is carrying the day’s water supply from
the spring. The water is carried in bamboo tubes.

FEVER CAMP 73

and streaming with water, crawling through the hole
in the back of the tent like a frightened dog seeking
cover.

nS Ta-jen, it is a big tree that has fallen,” he said,
staring wildly.

“Cut it away from the ropes,” I yelled, against the
noise of the storm. ‘The whole tent will go in a
minute!” I was pulling off my clothes then.

“‘ Ta-jen, it is a big tree, a very big tree!” He
repeated the statement in a dazed way, as though it
were some magic formula.

“Get a dah, call the Lashis, cut the wreckage loose
at once.”

“It is a very big tree, ta-jen,” he muttered mechanic-
ally, shivering with cold and fear, but doing nothing.

By this time I was stripped, and seizing a dah, I
dashed out into the night. Ugh: I shuddered and
caught my breath as the cold rain stung my naked
body.

The storm was now at its ake the trees tossing
their branches madly. Then a glare of lightning lit up
the scene, and I was soon warm, hacking at the tangled
wreckage. A fair-sized tree had been blown down,
but was luckily supported in part by the surrounding
forest, one branch only having crashed through my
tent. A couple of men were already at work on it
and we soon had the ropes, which, owing to the limited
space, were in most cases tied to trees instead of to
pegs in the ground, freed.

Then we fixed up the flapping rags of canvas and I
got back under shelter, all aglow with the exertion,
and rubbed myself down with a rough towel till I was
as red as a boiled lobster.

74 FEVER CAMP

The wind quickly subsided, but the rain continued
for atime. Then gradually silence fell over the forest,
till I could hear the men talking in their shelters and
the wail of bamboo flutes; through the torn-out end
of the tent a ruddy glow of camp fires burning brightly
once more stole cheerfully upon my solitude. This
spot we christened Storm Camp.

Next morning, to my astonishment, the day was
clear and sunny after the storm; evidently it was only
a local disturbance, of which we experienced a much
worse example later. |

We broke camp early, ascending steeply, traversing,
descending, but keeping as closely as possible to the
crest of the ridge which I hoped to follow all the way,
forest permitting. Luckily the forest was here pretty
open, with small oaks, rhododendrons, Bucklandia,
magnolia and clumps of bamboo, but along the
traverses and in the deep cross-cuts which trenched
the ridge and plunged deeply down into impenetrable
jungle progress was much slower.

This bamboo forest, as one might call it after the
dominant plant, in distinction to the rain forest of
Hpimaw and the Feng-shui-ling, is interesting.

The trees nearly all branch close to the ground,
sending up a great number of twisted and bent stems ©
which interlace above; or the trunk supports a sort
of candelabra of branches. But the clean, strapping
trunk shooting straight up for fifty or sixty feet as
in the rain forest is rarely met with, and then it is
always a conifer; also there is less undergrowth.

From tree to tree stretched spiders’ webs and long
threads of gossamer which, bedewed by the rain,
twinkled and glittered in the breeze as the early

FEVER CAMP is!

morning sunlight sent its shafts peeping through the
glades.

An hour after starting a fever attack set me shivering
and vomiting again. The going too became very bad,
with precipitous descents down slippery banks into
gullies stuffed full of bamboo where we had to hack
out steps. Now we climbed trees and, lopping off the
branches, saw the Ngawchang valley behind us, far
below, mottled with sunny colours, and snow on the
mountains ahead, but still a long way off.

At last I could go no farther, and wrapping myself
in a blanket lay down on the ground; but the men
went ahead to scout for water, the presence of which
controlled our camps. Happily a pool was found not
far away, and I stayed where I was till the camp was
fixed, when the men returned and carried me to bed.

The afternoon waned slowly, the shivering fit passed,
and by evening I felt better again. We were camped
on a knoll, which the men had cleared of bamboos,
using them to build their shelters. On every side was
the dense, dank forest, and our water was obtained
from a shallow, flat-bottomed gully, treeless and open
at the top, but plunging steeply and deeply down into
thick jungle on either side, which cut across the ridge
at right angles.

Perhaps the most depressing feature of these forests
is the immense silence which pervades them; it is as if
such dim, wet solitudes oppressed animal life rather
than holding out promise of shelter and food, for birds
are quite rare, and we saw no animals larger than voles
and mice—not even a squirrel. True, at Storm Camp
on the fringe of the forest we had seen a couple of
snakes—these reptiles flourish to excess in the hot, wet

76 FEVER CAMP

valleys of the Hpimaw hills—and several partridges.
But here the forest seemed absolutely deserted—yet
once we heard the tweet-tweet of a tiny bird.

Immediately one of the Lashis concealed himself in
a thicket and started to whistle a few plaintive notes in
reply.

Presently curiosity got the better of that little bird’s
discretion, and the tweeting came nearer. Still the
decoy whistle continued, was answered, and so again,
till at last the poor little victim appeared, hopping
cautiously from twig to twig, cocking his head perkily
now on one side, now on the other, as though consider-
ing, till he was right over the thicket where the bush-
rangers lay in wait; and he would assuredly have been
struck dead on the spot had there been any missiles
to hand. This incident may partly account for the
scarcity of birds in these hills, as it does in so
many of the hill jungles where the poor natives wage
incessant warfare against anything that flies, creeps or
crawls, for food.

I was quite unfit to travel next day, so calling the
Lashis together I spoke to them as follows :—

“Go,” I said, “make a path to the snow mountains
and bring back all the flowers you can find.”

I was not altogether certain that, blinded in the

forest as we had been on the previous day, we might
not have diverged from the main ridge on to some
minor spur. However, from camp the ground rose
above us, and by ascending as high as possible and
then climbing trees the men ought to be able to get
a view of the snowy mountains and of our position in
relation to them.

By the plants they brought back I should be able to’

FEVER CAMP 77

judge roughly what altitude they had attained, and as
I expected them to reach the snow and return laden
with alpines, it was with a certain suppressed excite-
ment that I awaited their return.

The morning dragged slowly on, and my disgust can
be imagined when, quite early in the afternoon, those

gallant Lashis returned hours earlier than they were
- expected, to report that, though it was possible to get
along, there was no water (hence no place to camp),
and that the cliffs were still far away. As for plants,
they brought me a balsam, a Corydalis which turned
out to be new? and one or two other subdued species
of the forest undergrowth !

Where were the primulas, saxifrages and Meconopsis
that I sighed for? It was a great disappointment, but
I consoled myself by anticipating what we would do
next day.

When darkness fell I heard the fires crackling merrily
as the big rhododendron logs were piled on, and the sad
wail of bamboo flutes, and snatches of song crooned in
a minor key, from where the Lashis sat huddled up in
their cramped shelter huts. The weather was still fine,
but the sky had clouded over and a cool breeze had
rustled the trees all day, bringing down showers of
leaves at dusk.

Away in the middle of the night I awoke suddenly.

Outside the trees were weeping softly under a
drizzling rain and from the gloom beyond the entrance
two large eyes of livid fire gazed at me unblinking.
For a long time I lay looking at this apparition, as I
thought in my sickness it must be; at last curiosity
could stand it no longer, and rising unsteadily I found

1 Corydaks saltatoria, sp. nov.

78 FEVER CAMP

an old tree stump just outside, from the crumbling
interior of which two patches of fungus-infested spunk-
wood glowed with phosphorescent flame; on the
ground lay scattered leaves and sticks outlined in pale
fire from the same cause.

Came 27th June, after a long, long night of wakeful-
ness, but no bustle of starting up the ridge; for
another spasm of fever had prostrated me. A fierce
bout of shivering and vomiting early left me in a state
of collapse for the rest of that day, and on the 28th
I sent a party down the mountain, telling them to seek
a route straight down the flank of the spur to the
Yawyin village. If this was feasible, it would save
a long round, as we had ascended by an unnecessarily
circuitous route.

The men were away all day, and returned at dusk,
saying they had found a new route—they were willing
enough to work when it came to going down! Also
they improvised a chair with two bamboo poles and ©
a board attached by ropes.

At night a gusty wind rose, sending the leaves
fluttering down again, and later came rain.

The morning of the 29th dawned damp and misty,
the whole jungle sobbing quietly as it seemed, and it
was with a heavy heart that I gave the ange to pack ©
up and abandon Fever Camp.

We started early, myself seated in the chair
wrapped in blankets and carried by two men. Almost
immediately we left the ridge and plunged down a
tremendously steep declivity through a dense growth of
bamboo; but the men had marked a good trail, and
going ahead now, cut a way for the chair, so that we
went down at a great pace. Pushing through the tall

FEVER CAMP 79

bamboos, I was soon thoroughly wetted by the showers
of water shaken from their slender stems; but in a
surprisingly short time we emerged from the forest,
finding ourselves out on the steep, bracken-covered hill-
side again, and almost immediately above the village,
which was reached within another two hours.

The clouds now rolled back, revealing the mountains
all round, the sun shone out, and the heavy heat of the
valley began to weigh on us like a hot pudding-cloth.

We rested an hour at the village and in the after-
noon continued down towards the river; though shaky,
I succeeded in walking most of the way.

One of the Lashis trod on a snake in the long grass
—he was bare-footed, of course—and leapt clean into
the air with a yell like an Apache; when he reached
earth again he broke the reptile’s back with his
bamboo staff.

We slept in the hut of a Chinaman who told me
he came from Chungking, the port on the Yang-tze
at the head of the great gorges, many weeks’? march
distant. This is‘an interesting fact, as illustrating the
gradual westward movement of the Chinese. I have
come across Ssu-ch‘uan men cultivating inhospitable-
looking mountain slopes in the remotest parts of
Yun-nan, which is gradually being populated from
the overcrowded Chengtu plain, the richest part of
the immensely fertile province of Ssu-ch‘uan, with its
seventy million inhabitants. And as they press peace-
fully westwards they eat up and imperceptibly absorb
the tribesmen who lie in their way, hustling the intract-
able remnant farther and higher into the mountains.

This direction taken by the emigrants of Ssu-ch‘uan
is the natural one, the line of least resistance, south-

80 FEVER CAMP

wards down the valleys into the ony spaces of
Yun-nan,

North and west would only take them into the cold
Tibetan mountains and grassland plateaux, a country
they abhor, and where they are not wanted.

Swarms of mosquitoes kept me awake all night. My
shivering fit was due next day, but the path was easy
and we should reach Hpimaw in the afternoon, as
I had hired four more villagers to carry my chair.

Nevertheless it was a long journey, and it took us
nearly nine hours to the fort, reached by five. o’clock.
The evening was beautifully fine, and as we climbed
the long hill from the Ngawchang valley the “ pass of
the winds and waters” stood out in clear relief.

Then I dosed myself with quinine and went to bed.

Thus on 3oth June the first attempt on Imaw Bum
came to an untimely end.

CHAPTER V

ASCENT OF A VIRGIN PEAK

r ITTLE more than a week later we set out a
second time for Imaw Bum, but alas! by this
time the weather had suffered a relapse.

As before, we made straight for the Ngawchang hka
over hill and dale, sleeping just above that river.

Pushing through the thick growth in the stream
bed hard by the Yawyin village where we had slept
previously, my attention was attracted to the strange
circumstance of some tall stinging nettles rocking to
and fro in still air, and turning to them | found that
this motion was caused by a number of large cater-
pillars agitating the leaves. ‘These formidable larve,
apprehensive at my approach, had raised their heads,
snake-like, and darting them rapidly to and fro caused
the leaves on which they sat to shiver and tremble in
the manner described. ‘The trembling motion became
still more marked as I looked closer, and when finally
I touched one, several of them ejected at me, with
considerable violence, drops of dark green fluid. Such
mummery is evidently designed to scare away some
enemy, but whether bird, spider or insect I did not
ascertain.

On the following day we crossed the Ngawchang,
and ascended to the Yawyin village by the cascade,
_ where we learnt with astonishment that since our last
visit the tiny village had been scourged, three men

F 8I

82 ASCENT OF A VIRGIN PEAK

having died and one woman even now lying grievously
sick; an old man told me that they had all eaten
poisoned honey.

I asked Tung about this, thinking of the Pontine
honey which poisoned the soldiers of Cyrus during
the retreat of the ten thousand, as related by
Xenophon.’

‘““It is true, ta-jen,” he said. ‘In the fifth and sixth
months the honey is poisonous, and those who eat it
die; but at other times it is good.”

The old man was himself ill, and saddened by the
disaster which had overtaken his village; but I gave
him some medicine and he eventually recovered.

Next morning we awoke in the clouds. Heavy
showers continued to fall, and the steep hill-side on the
direct route to Fever Camp was very slippery.

Plunging at last into the dripping forest, we reached
our goal in five hours, after an exhausting climb;
however, it had proved less formidable than I anticipated,
and preferable to the roundabout route via Storm
Camp followed on the last journey.

We found the huts at Fever Camp in good repair,
and as soon as the fires were blazing we became quite
merry in spite of discomforts.

Shafts of sunlight darting between the trees next
morning awakened the camp at six o’clock, and we
were soon on our way, the bamboos showering their
burden of water on us as we brushed through,

Keeping to the ridge, and ascending gradually, we
presently halted to climb trees, but though we had a
glimpse into the Ngawchang valley, the mountains were

1 See also Hooker, Himalayan Journals, and J. C, Whyte, Sikkim
and Bhutan.

ASCENT OF A VIRGIN PEAK 83

everywhere hidden. Two hours’ marching brought us
to the end of the path previously cut by the Lashis—
a sufficient tribute to their slackness—and after that
progress became slower, the bamboos growing very
thickly in places. Flowers were rare, a couple of
dwarf raspberries, several species of balsam, a Pedi-
cularis and an orchid being the only ones I have
recorded. But there were rhododendrons and a few
other small trees mixed with the bamboo growth, and
_ now fir-trees began to appear. Birds called at intervals,
but kept out of sight; and we crossed the tracks of a
bear.

In the middle of the afternoon we halted by a
shallow saddle where water was found, and for the
next half-hour nothing was heard but the ringing of
dah against bamboo, as rapidly a space was cleared.
One by one the shelters were run up, and presently
looking through the trees I saw from my tent the
gleaming fires and little groups of men seated. round
them over their rice-pots.

Selecting a big rhododendron, I climbed to the top

and settled down to wait for the curtain to go up.
After an hour I was rewarded. The clouds lifted
slightly, permitting a view of the Imaw Bum range
away to the left, across a broad gap.

On the right lay the Ngawchang valley, but of
the ridge ahead I could see nothing on account of
trees; then the mist came steaming up from below
again, and everything was blotted out. However,
we seemed to be going in the right direction; all
we had to do was to push ahead, keeping to the
ridge.

I called this place Observation Camp—altitude be-

84 ASCENT OF A VIRGIN PEAK

tween 8000 and gooo feet; it was really quite a jolly
spot, except for swarms of ant flies.

On 14th July we awoke enveloped in clammy cloud
as usual, and nothing could be seen from the look-out
tree. After a gradual ascent, the ridge going up and
down like a switchback, we went astray for a time,
bearing away to the left along a lateral spur, but
luckily the clouds lifted and revealed the error before
we had gone very far.

Following the first early morning rush of mist out
of the valley it kept comparatively fine, and in the
afternoon during a burst of sunshine we had another
view of the range, girded round with bold precipices ;
there could be no doubt that we were converging
slowly on Imaw Bum itself.

Still it was an anxious day of hard work, cutting a.
path, or, where the ridge broadened and the bamboos
grew more openly, selecting the best route. At one
point we were held up by a dense growth of stiff
bamboo grass six to eight feet high, which proved a
formidable obstacle.

Gradually all the old familiar trees save rhododen-
drons died out, while fir-trees, hitherto scattered, began
to increase in numbers. Still there were no flowers,
though we came across a single plant of Podophyllum
Emodi, dangling its big pear-shaped scarlet fruits, and
a curious little black orchid, as fungus-like in appearance
as in situation, growing in the fermenting leaf mould.
There were also a few Liliacew in fruit, and some
ferns. Everywhere our feet trod softly the: same
mould, beneath the tall, slender bamboos.

Camp was pitched on a knoll commanding a good
view of the range—altitude about 10,000 feet—and

ASCENT OF A VIRGIN PEAK 85

at nine o’clock the stars were shining in a clear
sky. |

I awoke in a raw mist to see T‘ung leaning over me.

“ Ta-jen,” he greeted me, “there is no water; it
was all finished last night, and there is no more.”

Too true. The pool from which we had drawn our
supply overnight had run dry. So we set out hungry.

Half-an-hour after breaking camp we found a pool
in the open jungle and had breakfast while waiting for
a heavy shower to pass. All around us were silver
firs, big scaly-barked rhododendrons, and thick bamboo
grass from six to twelve feet high; and so we marched
on, up and down along the ridge, apparently as far as
ever from our goal, yet in fact making real progress.

Presently we came upon some small, bushy rhodo-
dendrons—there was one with purple flowers just
over, and another with bright lemon-yellow flowers.
We were hot on the scent.

Up to a certain point the rhododendrons grow
bigger as one ascends the mountains, the biggest tree
rhododendrons occurring at intermediate altitudes, say
7000 to gooo feet. ‘Thence they rapidly decrease in
size, till at 12,000 to 13,000 feet on the North-East
Frontier, and 14,000 to 16,000 feet on the Yun-nan
ranges, they grow like heather in the Scotch Highlands.

The smallest alpine species are considerably smaller
than the bushes and: small trees of low altitudes.
But see how little effect absolute altitude has on
the flora—one finds the same species of rhododendron
and primula at 11,000 feet on the North-East Frontier
that one finds at 15,000 feet in north-west Yun-nan!

And the matter is no doubt one of moisture and
protection in winter; at 11,000 feet on Imaw Bum

86 ASCENT OF A VIRGIN PEAK

plants are as close to the limit of perpetual snow as
they are at 15,000 feet on the dry mountains of
Yun-nan east of the Mekong. Moreover, on the latter
range they must ascend to that altitude in order to
find sufficient moisture during the vegetative season.

Pressing on, we came suddenly to a place where
the ridge contracted to a granite wall flanked by
precipices, so that we must needs crawl along the
top, jumping gaps, or, descending from the crest
of the ridge, turn the precipices below, scrambling
along under the sheer walls. |

Before me lay the answer to my questions, the
realisation of my hopes. For the rocks were covered
with flowers—alpine flowers—rhododendrons, primula,
saxifrage, Cassiope, Cremanthodium. And not only
that; with flowers which, if not identical with others
edand on the Tibetan frontier in 1911 and 1913,
were plainly microforms of them.!

Some species were obviously identical, and of the
close relationship of the flora as a whole there could
be no question.

The tremendous significance of this fact was not
lost upon me——but now the reader will ask: “ What
question was answered by this discovery, and what
was its significance?” I reply:

Well, here is an alpine flora within the limits of
Upper Burma identical with another alpine flora on
another mountain range 200 miles to the north and

1 The word microform is used to denote relationship, irrespective
of the degree of that relationship. ‘Thus if A is a microform of B,
some botanists may call A a variety of B, another will regard them as
distinct species; by denoting them microforms one acknowledges the
relationship without committing oneself further.

ASCENT OF A VIRGIN PEAK 87

many miles to the east, separated from it by the
deep, impassable valley of the Salween. This latter,
the western China alpine flora, has long been recognised
as closely related to the Himalayan alpine flora, so that
the flora we are considering must also be so related.

Now it is impossible for this flora to have reached
Burma from the Himalaya, across the plains of Assam,
or the lower ranges to the west of the ’Nmai hka,
crossing the hot valleys of the Mali hka and Chindwin.
Nor indeed is there any record of an alpine flora at
all comparable to that of western China and_ the
Himalaya on the low hill ranges of Assam or western
Burma which would lead us to think that the migration
could have been in this direction. On the contrary,
what is known of the flora of these ranges leads to
the opposite conclusion—that such flora as has travelled
by this route has come to a dead stop early on.

It is equally impossible for the flora of the Mekong-
Salween divide to have jumped the Salween valley
and reached the Imaw Bum range that way. Either
it must have passed across from one range to the
other before the Salween valley was formed, which
is inadmissible, or we are driven to the conclusion
that it came from the north, right round the head
of the Assam valley and across the extreme tip of
northern Burma. This is the only route by which
the flora of Imaw Bum and of the Mekong-Salween
divide can have been derived, as plainly it has been,
from a common source."

1 See Transactions and Proceedings of the Botanical Society of
Edinburgh, vol. xxvii., part i., On the Sino-Himalayan Flora.”
Also Geographical Journal, November, 1919, ‘‘On the Possible
Extension of the Himalayan Axis beyond the Brahmaputra.”’

88 ASCENT OF A VIRGIN PEAK

I spent some time collecting specimens from the
granite rocks, where I found, amongst others, the
following :—Cassiope myosuroides, Diapensia himalayica,
Primula sciophila,’ rhododendron spp., Androsace sp.
Cremanthodium gracillimum; and we then went on
our way. Ten minutes later we were in the flower-
less jungle again.

Camp was pitched at an altitude of nearly 11,000
feet, not far from the last of the silver firs. In
spite of a marked chilliness in the atmosphere, there
were actually fire-flies in my tent. No big bamboos
were found here, so the men cut slabs of red bark
from the great gnarled rhododendrons with which
to roof their shelters. |

At dusk a flurry of cloud tumbled off the mountain-
tops and sank to bed in the valley, and I perched
myself in the top of a rhododendron tree and sat
there looking at the main range, and the summit
of our ridge, where it joined Imaw Bum, till the
stars shone out almost as brilliantly as under the
clear dome of the Tibetan sky. I knew that we
could easily achieve the summit next day, and re-
turned to my tent naney But T*‘ung had other
misgivings. |

“Only three days’ food left, Ta-jen,” he said when
he came with supper.

Well, we would have to make a dash for the
summit next day, and as the chances of finding any
water higher up were remote, it would be best to
leave the camp where it was and return there.

Taking with me five Lashis, I set out early,
cutting a path through the formidable barrier of

1 A beautiful little gem, related to P. della,

raed

YAWYIN CHILDREN AND IMAW Bum IN JUNE.

The boy on the left is wearing the rattan cane rings below the knee, affected by all the
frontier tribes.
: Imaw Bum is 13,370 feet high. It was first climbed by the author following the high spur
‘on the right, subsequently from the rear by following up the valley on the left.

u
i)

ASCENT OF A VIRGIN PEAK 89

bamboo which faced us at the start; but the ridge
soon became more open. Here scattered through
the bamboo growth were the last outposts of the
silver firs, stunted and ragged, their clipped branches
all pointing in one direction like finger-posts of ex-
ceptional unanimity and tedious persistence. In the
shade grew livid green orchids and a_ beautiful
Nomocharis, both white-flowered and rose; here and
there a break in the bamboo growth revealed open
grassy glades, likewise dappled with flowers.

Soon the big rhododendrons in turn died out, and
we were wading through unresisting bamboo grass
little more than waist-high, clear to the screes
beyond. The ascent was steady, in places steep,
with none of those dips down which had caused
misgivings in earlier days. |

Then came a confusion of scrub rhododendron
with tawny-red or flame-yellow, trumpet - shaped
flowers,’ yellow dog rose (KR. sericea) and bushes
of white-flowered spirzea, and crossing a few strips
of boulder we found ourselves free, on the naked
mountain flank, lashed by hard-driven rain.

Suddenly ahead of us rose several big birds, as
large as geese, which flew screaming down the slope;
they were dark in colour, with short fan-shaped tails
barred with white, and long necks, but that was all
I could distinguish through the curtain of blown
rain.

In 1919 I came across this bird again on Imaw
Bum, and identified it as Sclater’s monaul (Lophophorus
Sclateri), one the most magnificent of all pheasants. 1
also obtained a specimen of the Chinese blood pheasant

1 R. herpesticum, sp. nov.

go ASCENT OF A VIRGIN PEAK

(Ithagenes sinensis) from the same peak. Both are
quite common on Imaw Bum.

Clambering up some cliffs in the crevices of which
- crouched half-frozen dwarf shrubs such as juniper,
willow, rhododendron and gnarled cherry, we at last
stood on the summit of the long ridge, where it joined
the main range.

We had conquered our virgin peak,

The highest summit lay some distance away to the
left, along the main ridge; fronting us was another
deep valley at the bottom of which flowed a con-
siderable stream, and beyond that again a jumble of
ridges, spurs and valleys, but through the veil of swirl-
ing mist it was difficult to be sure of the topography.
Sufficient was it for the moment that we had achieved
our object.

The far side of the mountain sloped smoothly down
to the stream just mentioned, and was embroidered
with rhododendrons formed in the most enchanting
patterns, within the web of which were included small
patches of pure white quartz sand starred with the little
bluish violet flowers of Primula coryphaa.

The rhododendrons were all dwarfs, not six inches
high, bearing erect trusses each of two comparatively
large flowers set horizontally, with widely gaping
throats. They had white flowers, purple flowers, rose
flowers, lemon-yellow flowers, port-wine flowers*; but
perhaps the most striking of all was one with pure white,
waxen-looking flowers. |

In this paradise we roamed for some time though
shivering with cold as the raw wind beat through our

1 P, corypheea, sp. nov, closely allied to P. bella and to P. “i ane

2.R. nmatense, sp. nov.

ASCENT OF A VIRGIN PEAK 491

drenched garments. Patches of snow still lay melting
in the gullies; the mists gathered and dispersed
whimsically. I would have given a lot to have seen
these mountains bathed in sunshine.

Suddenly my attention was diverted by a loud snort,
and looking over the ridge I saw on the opposite
scree, 300 yards away, a herd of seven takin?
standing head to wind in the driving mist, like
Highland cattle. Their backs were to us, so that
we had ample leisure to examine them, as the
wind was coming up-valley and we were well above
them. There were two big bulls, three females
and two quite small calves. It was a splendid sight,
and I bitterly regretted having left my rifle in
camp. ne

After watching them through glasses for a time we
halloed, and the herd started up suddenly at the sound
and made off across the scree, those great lumbering
brutes, almost as big as water buffaloes, leaping nimbly
from rock to rock like goats. Plunging through a strip
of bamboo grass, they reappeared strung out in line on
the next scree and were soon swallowed up in the
mist. |

It was the second time I had seen this strange beast
at home, for I had been a member of the expedition
which discovered and shot the first Budorcas Bedfordi
in Shensi, five years previously. Then we had hunted
them knee-deep through the snow for three days, in
the bitter cold of the wild Ch‘in-ling mountains, the
back-bone of China, and had seen a herd of over
thirty.

Very little is known of the takin’s habits or dis-

1 Budorcas taxicolor.

92 ASCENT OF A VIRGIN PEAK

tribution yet. It has been reported from Bhutan,! Assam,
South-East Tibet and the North-East Frontier, whence it
ranges into Ssu-ch‘uan and northwards to Shensi, The
Indian species is known as BS. taxicolor, the Ssu-ch‘uan
as B. tibetanus, the Shensias B. Bedfordi; but as the vast
jungle-clad mountain ranges between its extreme limits
are practically unknown ground, these may eventually
turn out to be the same, or colour varieties of the same
animal, But much remains to be discovered, especially
as regards the distribution of this animal, half-goat,
half-buffalo. It may yet be found to extend down both
sides of the Chindwin river, for example, and south of
the Zayul chu, at the head-waters of the Mali hka
beyond Hkamti Long. Unless, however, it is found
in Yun-nan and more generally distributed over
Ssu-ch‘uan, we may be certain that its distribution is
_ discontinuous.

At the same time it is absolutely confined to the
Himalayan ranges, the parallel ranges of Upper Burma
and western China, and the main divide across
China.

Returning now to the low cliffs and tumbled boulders
up which we had finally climbed to the summit of the
ridge, we prospected again for plants, Thickets of -
bamboo grass alternated with smooth, gravelly slopes
and confused piles of boulders, amongst which grew
many handsome flowers such as Cremanthodium Wardit,
Polygonum sp., Saxifraga purpurascens, Cassiope myosu-
roides, and a small purple orchid; mats of silken-leafed

1 The living specimen which in recent years was to be seen at the
London Zoo came from Bhutan. This animal died in 1918.
There is a stuffed specimen of B. Bedfordi set up in the Natural
History Museum, South Kensington.

ASCENT OF A VIRGIN PEAK 93

dwarf willow spread fanwise over the ground, and
mangled junipers strove to rise above the rocks; even
a tortured cherry-tree, mutilated almost beyond recog-
nition, and a Pyrus maintained the fight against cold
and starvation. But the rhododendrons, even the
most dwarf, never appeared disfigured. Their splendid
flowers were the most beautiful of all.

There was not, however, that overwhelming pro-
fusion of flowers here that had so astonished me on
the Tibetan border in 1911 and 1913.

We got back to a dismal camp, all fires out, and the
rain continuing for the rest of the day, by nightfall
my tent was the refuge of moths, beetles and flying
creatures of all kinds.

Next morning, 17th July, we started down the ridge,
’ reaching our third camp in two hours, and Observation
Camp two hours later. Here we halted for a short
meal, and starting off again, reached Fever Camp
before dusk. Round Fever Camp the sodden mould
was now encumbered with scarlet, yellow and purple
pileate fungi spreading their poisoned gills. Several
quaint orchids and lifeless-looking broomrape were
in flower. Not far above a magnificent white-
flowered rhododendron (R. crassum) was in full
bloom,

Maintaining the pace down, we were out of the
forest in an hour next morning, great volumes of
cloud rising from the valley towards the summits we
had left. We soon reached the Yawyin village, only
to learn that the sick woman had died the previous
day. But the old man had recovered, and with tears
in his eyes thanked me for the medicine I had given
him. '

94 ASCENT OF A VIRGIN PEAK

I went in to see the dead woman, and in the
darkness of the poor hut just made out a figure
wrapped in a white cloth which entirely concealed it
except for the hands crossed on the breast.

An aged hag, crouched on the mud floor, was
watching over it, wailing hopelessly and wringing her
hands; from time to time she ceased crying and
muttered incantations; then she would burst forth
again in mournful wailing that had in it a note of
uncontrollable despair, dreadful to hear. In the heavy
darkness beyond, where the embers of a fire glowed,
a white-haired old man was cooking food, and several
children crawled about, playing in the dust, heedless of
the ruin round them. In such gloomy surroundings,
with the old witch beside it, the corpse, swathed in
its coarse hempen winding-sheet, looked horribly like
an Egyptian mummy, and I was glad to withdraw from
that fallen house.

Outside some men were hammering a coil together
—next day the dead woman would be buried on\the
cold mountain-side.

Now the old man, taking me by the hand, pointed
with shaking finger.

“< Two ite died in that hut, ta-jen,” he said, “three __

in that one.’

Then he broke down altogether and wept on my
shoulder.

Leaving this village of the dead the same after-
noon we descended to the river, the men singing
as we came down the last hill-side into the semi-
tropical warmth of the valley, glad to be home
again.

Crossing the river we did not halt, but continued

ASCENT OF A VIRGIN PEAK 95

till nightfall, by which time we were in the Hpimaw
valley.

Camping where we halted, dead tired, and starting
again at daylight, by midday on 19th July we were
back at the fort with our spoil.

CHAPTER VI

IN THE TEMPERATE RAIN FOREST

wherein lay the village of Hpimaw, opposite

the fort, rises a high limestone peak, aloof and
frowning. ‘Towards the valley of the Ngawchang its
slope, though steep, is unbroken, but facing the main
range it falls away in sheer broken-off precipices. On
this side too it is grooved with a deep fissure filled
with forest and walled in by great slabs of bare rock.
This is Laksang Bum.

In the second week of July we set out for this peak
—limestone seems to attract to itself all the prettiest
flowers—and descending to the village halted in a
rose-scented lane for lunch, while we called for fresh
porters.

Some young girls who, pressed into service above,
had carried loads for us down from the fort, ministered
to our wants in the meantime, bringing bamboo
flagons of thick, heady liquor, and begging for beads
in return.

They are not, generally speaking, pretty, these flat-
faced, short-statured, corpulent Lashi girls, but in spite
of their unwashed appearance—nay, it is real enough—
they are, like all the hill tribes, quaintly picturesque.

A dark blue kilt-like cotton kirtle to the knees, a
short jacket barely reaching the waist, grey cloth
leggings and a blue turban of ample proportions—

, 96

G stein hs sentinel over the green valley

THE TEMPERATE RAIN FOREST 97

such is their dress in the main, and were their bulky
figures more shapely it would be not unbecoming.
Beyond this they are loaded with bric-a-brac indis-
criminately, like a Christmas tree. Below the knee
are the black rattan rings universally worn here, and in
addition heavy cane girdles, threaded with white cowry
shells, are loosely twisted round the waist. This belt
plays no part in keeping the kirtle up, however, and,
sagging low in front, gives a most untidy impression,
as it tries to hide the breach between the short jacket
and the kirtle.

But the most striking thing about them is the vast
weight of blue bead necklaces—blue seems to be their
favourite colour—with which they fetter themselves.
How do they get them? A simple proceeding since
Johnny Gurkha came to Hpimaw and made love to them
like the little gentleman he is. Before that it must
have been difficult, for they love not the journey to
the Myitkyina bazaar. The ubiquitous Chinese pedlar
no doubt aided them.

Leaving the village, we crossed the valley and
ascended the slopes on the other side; the fragrance
of lilies came to us from the grass, and we pitched
camp on a little knoll at the foot of the peak, amidst
silvery cotton grass and tangles of bryony. Here the
bracken grew seven feet high, vieing with purple-
flowered meadow-rue!; a few small trees, skerries
rising from the ferny sea, grew half submerged.
Here and there bosses of limestone, cropping out ir-
regularly, were covered with the woolly white wrinkled
leaves of Didissandra, which has violet lobelia-like
flowers; and a dense wall of jungle, hung with an

1 A species like Thalictrum Delavayi.
G

98 IN THE TEMPERATE

equally dense curtain of climbing plants, made the
ascent of the peak by the gully, in appearance at
least, almost out of the question.

The cliff which bounded the gully on one side,
however, was open, and it was up this ridge, hugging
the fringe of the forest—for- the other side was
precipitous in places and required caution, the more
so as the short dry grass which clothed the ridge was
slippery—that I proposed to reach the summit.

In the afternoon blood-blister flies gave us no
quarter, but as usual they passed with the day, and
gave the sand-flies an innings.

The evening was fine and when the moon rose over
the mountains it caught the cotton grass and splashed
the whole meadow with drops of glistening silver.
Fire-flies twinkled amongst the trees, some coming into
my tent to examine the lantern, as though jealous of
its wan beams. A deer barked close by, and was
answered by another, and then came a shrill scream
from high up in the jungle, as of some animal in deadly
fear.

Next morning, wading across the channel of deep
bracken which separated us from the peak, we gained
the ridge and began the ascent. No serious difficulties
were encountered until nearing the summit, whereupon
what had thus far been just a very steep slope was
succeeded by broken precipices and rocks, necessitating
hand and foot work with frequent traversing to turn
awkward-looking cliffs; and the summit was reached
in about three hours without incident.

We were now about 10,000 feet above sea-level,
with uninterrupted views all round, but we could see
very little on account of the clouds, Across the

RAIN FOREST 99

valley a white spot on the edge of the forest marked
the fort, and right at our feet lay the village. But the
Ngawchang hka was buried away out of sight, and
the mountain ranges which enfolded us were heavily
cloud-capped.

Several rhododendrons were still in flower, one
a small tree with large trusses of striking crimson-
scarlet flowers (R. agapetum), growing along the edge
of the forest—this as late as gth July! But I have
seen this species in flower as late as August; in fact it
appears to flower twice, spring and summer, for I have
also found it in flower, and nearly over, in May.

We descended by the wooded ravine, which though
steep gave secure hand and foot hold. On the damp
limestone cliffs, in beds of moss, grew patches of
a pretty little pink-flowered primula now in seed.
Pink and white begonias and a few other flowers
shone in the festering darkness of the forest, but
mostly, where light filtered through from above and
the awakened undergrowth sprang to meet it, ferns
carpeted the warm leaf-mould.

Lower down the descent became more difficult and
we came to precipices. At last we reached the bottom,
and parting the thick curtain of creepers, which hung
in front of the daylight, saw our camp on the knoll,
not faraway. Joyfully we plunged once more through
the sea of bracken, which totally submerged us, and
presently reached the tents.

Back in Hpimaw after the middle of July difficulties
gathered thicker. At this time I was suffering from
a bad foot which kept me indoors for several days—I
had injured it climbing, and the continual pressure of
sodden boots had aggravated it till it festered. And

100 IN THE TEMPERATE
now came T‘ung-ch‘ien weeping and asking that he
might go home.

Poor Tung! I think it was the first time I had
seen him disheartened, for he was a cheerful soul, and
merry. First he told me that his little daughter had
died in far-away Li-kiang—but that was months ago,
while we were still in Yun-nan, and could hardly be the
cause of his immediate distress; for his grief was
poignant. |

“Don’t you remember, ta-jen, when we were in
sunny Yun-nan in the spring—we passed some Tibetan
horse dealers returning from Mandalay on the road
that day, and you greeted them—how I wept one
evening? J knew about it at that time.”

‘Then it is too late, Tung! Why do you want to
go back to Li-kiang now? See, we shall only be here
a few months longer; stay with me till the autumn
and we will go back to Yun-nan together. next
year.”

Then he told me that my Lashi collectors had been
unkind to him on the road, so I scolded them soundly,
and next morning after a night’s rest—what opiate can
induce an oblivion like eight hours’ peaceful sleep to
ease a bruised heart ?—T‘ung said he would stay with
me till I left. And from that moment he sional to
recover his old spirits.

There were family troubles at the fort too, a dooly-
bearer having unwisely mixed himself up in an affaire
with a Lashi matron.

They are queer folk, the Lashis, impatient of
restraint, restless under the closer surveillance of the
sircar, which, since the Yun-nan Government coquetted
with the villagers of Hpimaw, has been forced into

RAIN FOREST: | bes

a programme of direct administration which otherwise
might well have been long postponed.

The commandant, missing one of his followers,
heard by the merest chance one morning that he was
a prisoner in the village, awaiting execution, which was
fixed for noon that very day; whereupon two sepoys,
rushing down, arrived just in time to save him.

Then was unfolded the usual story of love, intrigue
and revenge. It appeared that the wife of a village
elder, growing tired of him, had found another lover
in the dooly-bearer, and that these two had enjoyed
each other’s love.

Discovery followed; the woman had been severely
beaten, and the co-respondent, for all that he was an
Indian—perhaps the more readily on that account—
summarily condemned to death. And he would
certainly have been barbarously beheaded but for the
prompt arrival of the relief party.

The woman’s story was to the effect that her
husband was an old man, and, as she bluntly told the
commandant, “no good.” Baring her back, she
exhibited the weals and bruises inflicted on her for
her conduct, and pleaded that she had but enjoyed the
embraces of her lover, a function her ageing husband
could no longer fulfil.

Two men who were brought up in chains, self-
appointed judges and would-be executioners of the
wretched dooly-bearer, asked, with an assumption of
haughtiness, by what right the commandant interfered
in the affair. It was the law in China that a man
taken in adultery was executed, and they adhered to
that law, since Hpimaw was under Chinese dominion !

This was a new aspect of the case, but the prisoner’s

102 IN THE TEMPERATE

ignorance, real or assumed, of the political status of
Hpimaw could not condone this reckless action, and
they were naturally locked up till the civil officer,
who resided at Htawgaw, three marches down the
valley, could inquire into the case.

The incident threw some light on the attitude of the
Lashis towards ourselves and China; either they were
unaware of the real significance of our presence in the
valley, or by no means*reconciled to it.

Towards the end of July there came one of those
sudden and inexplicable breaks in the rains, character-
istic of the hills. By night it poured as steadily as
ever, but by day, in spite of the cloud blanket resting
soddenly on the mountains, burying their summits,
owing to some cross-current of air, some subtle re-
adjustment of pressures, the rain held off for a week,
while the sun even peeped out occasionally.

Then after a tempestuous sunset behind the
Lawkhaung divide the clouds would close their ranks,
and pressing heavily down on the valley, envelop the
fort in drenching rain for the night. They were grand
sometimes, those struggles at dusk between the retreat-
ing sun and the onswarming clouds. In a river of gold
the setting sun, defiant to the last, would flash its
fiery signals across the valley, and disappear, while the.
wicked-looking cloud waves quickly closed all loop-
holes, and rushing up the valley, beat furiously against
the mountains.

It was on just such a night, when we were sitting
down to dinner, that the bugle sounded the alarm.

I heard the tramp of feet, and men came running
past the bungalow. It was as thick as a London
fog outside, and the finest drizzle was falling,

RAIN FOREST > 103

though heavy splashes dripped from the sodden
trees, |

Away down the hill on the lower shoulder you
heard’ the stamp and jingle of saddling up in the
mule lines, and presently the pack-mules came trotting
up the path, with the water glistening on their harness.

There was a squad kneeling at the entrance to the
fort, with fixed bayonets—they shone dully through
the lamp-lit mist, and a tense silence wrapped every-
thing now as in a shroud, not altogether due to the
thick mist which seemed to be slowly but surely choking
the whole world to death. The Asiatic is not less
brave than the European; but in the long empty spaces
of the night his nerves strain and snap like parting
hawsers, and he crumples up.

For he fears silence more than anything in the world.

A clicking sound from above made me look up, to see
the jacketed muzzle of a machine gun thrust menac-
ingly through a loop-hole at an angle of the fort, and a
second looked sideways down the bare slope from the
keep at the opposite angle. A row of dark faces dimly
outlined against the slit in the diabolical gloom gave to
the whole the appearance of a cruel mouth grinning
evilly. |

Then the commandant nodded his head, and spoke
to the subadar. The order was given to close, and
the bugle rang out once more.

Of course it was all play, or let us say dress re-
hearsal; but the annual crop of rumours from over
the frontier had been coming in and included the
oft-advertised march of imaginary Chinese legions on
lonely Hpimaw.

I often think that if those high-placed mandarins in

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104 IN THE TEMPERATE

Yun-nan who considered they had a grievance when we
occupied Hpimaw had themselves resided there for six
months, their verdict would have been: ‘For God’s
sake take the cursed place !”

The Gurkhas, it may be remarked, are very fond of
flowers—they have learnt to love them in their own
mountains in far-away Nepal, I expect. I often met
parties of them returning laden with bunches of
rhododendrons and golden marigolds, which they stuck
in glasses of water to decorate the fort.

The limit of plant adolescence had now been reached,
and everything was growing and spreading enormously.
The turgid undergrowth stood. man-high, the trees
were covered with varied flowers, not their own.
The thick pile of fern-like moss which covered every
tree trunk and every bamboo haulm was a hive of
suburban life, a world apart from the busy life of the
larger forest.

Probing into its green depths, you found the most
entrancing creatures in hiding, as when you lift up the
fringe of seaweed lining some sapphire rock pool; and
no doubt they were equally astonished at the violation
of their sanctuary.

Here I brought to light a quaint green stick-insect
cleverly disguised as a sprig of moss, for which, indeed}
I mistook him till he showed himself capable of indepen-
dent motion. Here too in the green underworld of moss
were snails shaped like French horns, and slender pink

worms, leeches—but of them more anon—beetles,
-spiders—oh! a menagerie of creatures; the hive pulsed
with silent life. Beneath an unrufiled surface, what
struggles took place between creature and creature, each
an idea in the Divine Mind, each labouring under a

RAIN FOREST 105

blind impulse to increase its numbers without regard for
others; what raids, what devilries, what tragedies!

Then came fever again, and for several days I had to
depend on my Lashi collectors; nor was their enterprise
great. ‘There were wet nights when the rain pattered
dismally on the roof, grey mornings, the dripping jungle
only half seen, and flying cloud; but sometimes a gleam
of sunshine and a few hours’ fine weather in the afternoon
before the watery sky suffocated the sun again.

Below the fort the ridge falls away steeply to the
valleys on either side and the flank facing the village is
thickly wooded with small trees and scrub—rhodo-
dendrons, oaks, willows, Hamamelis, poplar, barberry,
tangled up with miscellaneous undergrowth and climb-
ing plants. The rock where it crops out is seen to be
limestone, and likely enough this ridge was once
continuous with the isolated sugar-loaf peak across the
valley, Laksang Bum, already alluded to, till cut
through by streams flowing down from the neighbour-
hood of the Hpimaw pass.

The flank away from the village falls as steeply to
another stream, but, facing south, is not wooded; it is
clothed instead with bracken and grass, whence spring
many white and yellow flowered Zingiberacez, besides
tall white lilies one year and yellow lilies the next, at
least so I was told—certainly there were only yellow
ones (L. nepalense) while I was there; and since both
are biennials there is nothing incredible in the alterna-
tion. In rocky parts, as the slope increases, scattered
oaks, alders and pines struggle against gravity, flinging
a network of rugged roots over the slipping rocks. It
is not till you get right down to the bottom in the cool
depths of the narrow glen, where the stream cascades

106 IN THE TEMPERATE

over slaty ledges, that forest growth occurs. Here I
found another patch of Primula seclusa. | a

This contrast is typical of the whole region, and not
a mere accident. North slopes are forested, south
slopes are grass-clad, so that looking north one sees all
the south-facing slopes at once, and the mountains
appear somewhat bare, but looking south, mainly north-
facing slopes are exposed, and they appear well timbered.

On fine evenings the Gurkhas used to play vigorous
“soccer” on the small undulating parade ground cut
out of the hill-side, and I sometimes joined them in a
game, till my feet got too sore from climbing. It was
a pleasant change, and home-like!

While exploring the wooded slope below the fort I
found as late as the last day of July the glorious crimson
Rhododendron agapetum still in flower. This conjured
up visions of possible English gardens flaming with
these magnificent trees from March till midsummer.
There were some ground orchids in the wood too,
including Cypripedium arietinum and another with twin
heart-shaped leaves lying flat on the rocks, variegated
and glistening, as though cut from frosted glass.

Then there silently arose just in front of me a brown
flapping creature which zigzagged through the trees,
sawing a little up and down, before it came to rest
abruptly, and—melted away. Had it been, as | at first
thought, a bird, there was nothing, save perhaps its
silent movements, like those of a night-jar, remarkable
about it. But no bird I ever met could alight thus on
a bush and immediately disappear, noiselessly. Indeed
it was not a bird; its flight, its manner of settling, its
power of spontaneously blending with its surroundings,
all betrayed it for what it was. It wasa butterfly; and

RAIN FOREST 107

with the realisation at once the incredible size of the
insect struck me. But I never captured one of those
skulkers, though I saw several. What I did capture in
this copse was a new species of shrew.!

It was here too, in wet, mossy nooks amongst tits
limestone rocks of this slope, that, early in July, I
first found a pretty little pink-flowered primula new
to me, not unlike P. malacoides, but less tall.

And so came August. The commandant had gone
on tour again and I was alone with a tiny puppy
he had given me as companion. The mails arrived
regularly once a week, but their news was six weeks
old, and no shadow of the breaking storm had as
yet darkened Hpimaw. The entry in my diary for
4th August states that it was raining day and night
and we were living in the clouds. I had been in
bed all day with fever, unable to take any food,
but was out again on the 6th, when I discovered
a dainty little meadow-rue on the open limestone
slope.

At last I made up my mind to abandon my botanical
work at Hpimaw and return to England in order
to regain health prior to another attempt; but [|
would not go by the direct road to Myitkyina—I
conceived a better ending to the trip. I would march
northwards right along the North-East Frontier,
amongst the wild mountains where rise the Laking,
Mekh and Ahkyang rivers, cross to the plain of Hkamti,

1 Blarinella Wardii, Thomas, sp. nov. This belongs to a new
genus of shrews, related to the earless shrews of North America, first
distinguished by Mr Oldfield Thomas, F.R.S., of the Natural History
Museum ; the other two known species of the genus, B. quadraticauda

and B. griseldi, are both Chinese, 8. Wardii extends the genus west-
wards,

108 IN THE TEMPERATE

and thence make my way over the mountains to Assam.
This plan decided on, I at once set about making
preparations.

On 12th August the clouds lifted slightly, and
I started on a last climb to the Hpimaw pass.

A foul, musty odour now rose from the leaf-mould
in the jungle and a magic growth of meadow flowers,
not unlike the meadows of the Yun-nan mountains,
but less tall, covered the open hill-sides which previ-
ously had been bare save for a thin carpet of turf;
but the glory of the rhododendrons was past, their
place taken by these strangers on the threshold of
the forest—tall meadow-rue, twining Codonopsis with
yellow bell flowers, masses of Astilbe, like giant
meadowsweet, chestnut-leafed Rodgersia, Polygonum,
Pedicularis, geranium, Corydalis, royal fern and crimson
spikes of Epilobium.

Buddleia limitanea was in flower at 10,000 feet,
and the swollen infant streams were overgrown with
balsams, marsh marigold and monkey-flower, jostling
each other for place, with blue-flowered Cynoglossum
and colonies of lanky Polygonum. There were more
small birds about now, some of them very pretty
little fellows, whose queer cries were pleasant to
hear. |

By 17th August all was ready for our departure,
and on that day I dispatched an advance guard of
eight porters.

All transport on the North-East Frontier and through-
out the Burmese hinterland is done by porters—there
are no pack-animals of any kind, and no roads either.
In western China and throughout Tibet, on the other
hand, though the roads are appalling, all transport

RAIN FOREST 109

is done by mules, ponies, or yak—a very different
state of affairs. It is commonly said that only beggars
walk in Tibet!

Tung was sick and a little sulky, but the iden
of seeing new country so cheered me that I felt
better than I had done for some time. Alas! little
did I realise how vastly same is all this country for
many weary marches, at least all the way to Assam.
However, a real break, promised for several days,
had come in the rains, the sun shone from a blue
sky—it was the hottest day we had had, 81-°3° F. in
the shade at 8000 feet !—and watching the changeful
sunset where invisible air currents were reshuffling
the gilded clouds, I felt that we might yet achieve
something from the wreck of the season.

On 18th August the main body, consisting of ‘Tung
(Lao-niu had left me), my Maru interpreter, Lashi
servant, ten porters and myself finally left Hpimaw.
There was a mail due that morning and I delayed
starting till it should arrive.

At last the mules appeared toiling slowly up the
winding path, and I followed them up to the fort,
inside which was the post office, to get my letters;
but to my disappointment, receiving only a post card,
I immediately turned my back on Hpimaw and followed
the porters down the hill as fast as I could go.

CHAPTER VII

IN THE LAND OF THE CROSSBOW

AKING the path down the Hpimaw valley,

which skirted now golden rice-fields, we

crossed the spur, thrust up like a wall

between the Hpimaw stream and the Ngawchang as

they converge on the confluence, and dropped into the
latter valley.

Here we were soon beyond the last paddy-fields,
from which fat Lashi women were busy uprooting
alien weeds, and thenceforward saw no more level
ground, save here and there wee terraces high up
enfolded in the river bends, till we reached the Shan
plain six weeks later.

Everywhere the steep slopes are clad with coarse
grass through which bare rock thrusts itself in places,
but there is a fair amount of hill cultivation for the
first few miles. Scattered over the hill-sides are pine-
trees, oaks, and Alnus nepalensis, giving to the valley
a park-like appearance. |

The maize crop was now ripening, and many are
the devices employed to scare away the monkeys
which raid the fields by night. On the very steepest
slopes a small hut is built at the top, with a long
diving-board jutting out, thus overlooking the entire
slope below. In this forward observing-post one or
two—generally two—people take up position for the
night, and when the monkeys come, sally forth and

IIO

THE LAND OF THE CROSSBOW 111

drive them away by making strange noises and
throwing things at them. In the slack intervals
between raids they make love.

A more ingenious method is to erect bamboo poles
with split tops, here and there, attaching a cord to
each. When the cord is jerked the split bamboo
clacks lustily, and by tying all the cords together and
leading the one line to the hut the clappers can with
one tug be set clacking simultaneously. Thus all the
sentry has to do is to sit in the hut and give the line
a sharp tug every few minutes, when alarming noises
start up unexpectedly from every corner of the taungya.
The disadvantage of this method is that as only one
is required on sentry duty, the prospects for love-
making are not so good.

Tins are sometimes used instead of split bamboos,
and where a stream runs through the taungya, the
line is stretched out from bank to bank with a float,
in the shape of a log of wood attached to it, dangling
in the water. The rush of the torrent against the
float, flinging it this way and that, jerks the rope
spasmodically, which in turn rattles tins or clacks
bamboos all over the field; thus a more or less con-,
- tinuous noise is kept up, breaking out now here, now
there with whimsical uncertainty.

But the most ingenious apparatus of all was worked
by means of a hollow log, pivoted in the bed of a
torrent. As the stream filled the reservoir with water,
the log tipped up, emptied out the water and returned
heavily to its original position, hitting a stretched
bamboo cord a shrewd blow as it fell back. This
in turn jerked a cord attached to all the clappers,
which clacked away out on the faungya every few

112 IN THE LAND OF

minutes as the trough filled and fell, emptied and
rose.

In the evening we reached a considerable village
called Gaulam—there were both Lashis and Yawyins
here. It is prettily situated in the mouth of a V-
shaped gully, on a shelving fan of gravel spread out
by the stream, the big sixty-foot huts raised on piles
sheltered by palms and walnut-trees, with tangled
hedges of cucumber plants from which hang golden
fruits like bananas. Below the river chatters merrily
by, in a broad, shingly bed, before entering the
gorge.

Clapper, clapper, clack, clack went the monkey
scares, shaken by the tumbling waters of the torrent.
As the full moon rose, flooding the valley in golden
light, troops of monkeys came out of the black jungle
above, and we heard the shrill cries of the children,
and the clap, clackety, clap all through the night,
driving them back.

The temperature fell only to 65° F., but the air was
raw after a damp night.

Though the next day opened with drizzling rain,
the sun quickly came through, and it was muggy in
the valley. ,

We marched to Kang-fang in the morning, crossing

several deep gullies filled with a confusion of shrubs,
brambles and trees, strung together and often
smothered beneath an immense tangle of climbing

fern, Polygonum and Leptosodon, whose delicate fairy ~

bells of pale violet colour swung mutely on the
breeze.

Gorgeous butterflies sported in the sunshine, and a
plague of flies tormented us. Where there was any

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THE CROSSBOW 113

cultivation it was chiefly millet and maize, with patches
of tobacco and cucumber round the villages. /

There is no flat ground anywhere, not so much as
to pitch a tent on, save in the river bed where the
shrinking waters have laid bare a pebble bank.

Kang-fang stands on the left bank, the river being
crossed by a cane suspension bridge; thenceforward
we kept to the right bank of the Ngawchang. Kang-
fang is also the last village up the valley where
Chinese are met with, and a depot for storing the
- coffin planks which are brought down from the forests
to be carried into China.

This cofin plank industry is of some importance
on the frontier, and considering the rapidity with
which the trees aré being destroyed, it is strange that
the Indian Government has taken no steps to regulate
the export of planks or protect the tree.

Moreover, the timber might prove of value for other
purposes besides that of making coffins, and though
the inaccessibility of these forests would prohibit the
export of timber to Myitkyina, the tree might be intro-
duced elsewhere.

The tree in question is a magnificent juniper,
which grows upwards of 150 feet high and 20 feet
in girth at the base. It is not found in the Ngaw-
chang valley below about 6000 feet, nor much above
8000 feet, and occurs scattered or in groves probably
all the way up the North-East Frontier. The finest
specimens | came across were confined to the remote
_ forests and gorges around the Wulaw Pass,

The Chinese name is Asiang-mu-shu—that is,
** scented-wood tree”—and ‘T‘ung assured me that a
conifer we had seen growing amongst arid rocks in

114 IN THE LAND OF

the stark gorges of the Tibetan Mekong in 1913 is the
same tree as the one which is cut here, an identification
I am inclined to doubt.’

The juniper is cut when the wood, as judged by
its scent, is ripe, it being then anything from twenty
to eighty years of age; the planks are of a size
corresponding to the great size of the tree, the
average dimensions being—length, eight to ten feet,
breadth two feet, thickness one inch, giving a weight
of 100 to 140 lbs. when freshly cut, though not more
than 60 to 80 Ibs. when dry.

Chinese carpenters come over from T*‘eng-yueh, a
city of western Yun-nan, and cut the trees themselves,
hiring coolies to carry the planks back to China, as
many as 150 being exported in a good season. But
some years, when the rice and maize crops fail on
the North-East Frontier, they do not come at all.

The price of the planks rises rapidly as you recede
from their home. At the source they are sold for
Tls. 1? each. From here they are floated down the
Ngawchang when the water is shallow, ten together,
fifty planks requiring only five men to attend them
on their twenty days’ journey.

At Kang-fang they are stocked for the winter, and
in early summer, when the snow has melted on the
Feng-shui-ling, are carried on the backs of coolies
to Yun-nan, each man carrying a single plank, taking
about ten days between Kang-fang and T‘eng-yueh.

1 Wilson mentions buried wood of Cunninghamia lanceolata as called
hsiang-mu-shu in Ssu-ch‘uan. Of course the name might be applied
to any scented wood. (See 4 Naturalist in Western China, by E. H.
Wilson. ) .

2 See Chapter III.

; |

‘THE CROSSBOW 115

The minimum price of a coffin in T‘eng-yueh being
about Tls. 50, and the cost of four boards landed
in T‘eng-yueh only about Tls. 20, good profits are
realised.

Why the “scented wood” is so valued in China
for making coffins is explained by the passion the
Chinese have for exhuming their corpses and burying
them elsewhere. This is the remedy whenever the
least hint, as reflected in the distress of the departed
spirit, suggests that a site not in accordance with
feng-shui, otherwise ‘ wind-and-water,” or luck, was
selected for the grave.

Geomancers, though dabbling in inhuman affairs,
are, after all, themselves only human, and sometimes
make mistakes, though no Chinaman would think of
burying a relation without first consulting a geomancer.

When it becomes plain, through the continued ill
luck of the relations, that the departed spirit really
is ill at ease, then the body is promptly exhumed and
buried in a more favourable position.

Chinese graves are often situated amidst the most
romantic surroundings, on wooded hill-sides shaded by
funereal cypress, the sward strewn with dwarf irises,
crimson rhododendrons afire all round. But on the
great hazy plains more prosaically they pimple the
landscape like mole-hills.

Tls. 50 seems a good deal to give for a coffin, but
the Chinese have an exaggerated respect for the dead
which reacts distressingly on the living. If there is
one thing universal in China which shouts aloud for
reform, it is the gross luxury in which the dead are
ushered into the next world, leaving the account to
be settled by those remaining behind.

116 IN THE LAND OF

T‘ung inveighed bitterly against these things. He
had recently lost a mother-in-law, for Tls. 150—a
considerable sum for a small trader, including the
provision of coffin, mourners, a feast to all his friends,
new clothes, crackers to keep off devils, and a band;
but perhaps it was worth it.

At Kang-fang we crossed the river by cane suspen-
sion bridge to another village, consisting of half-a-dozen
scattered huts. Pursuing our way up the right bank,
sometimes in the river bed, where the Lashis stopped
to sharpen their dahs on specially selected stones, we
entered a lovely gorge, forested to the water’s edge;
here the river was quite forty yards broad, and shallow,
chattering beryl-clear over shining pebbles.

Just below this gorge the Hpawte river enters
the Ngawchang on the left bank. By following up
the Hpawte hka, the Chimili (12,000 feet), the last
accessible pass direct to the Salween from Burmese
territory, is reached. .

Climbing over a steep cliff we descended to the
river, and struggling knee-deep across a boisterous
torrent camped on a sand spit in the river bed.
From the damp cliffs hung sprays of orange orchids,
and the long, forked tongues of Gleichenia liniaris ;
bunches of striped violet Chirita peeped from amongst
nests of spearhead-shaped, downy leaves, and the
mottled velvet leaves of Colocasia sp. formed a beautiful
mosaic; here and there were bunches of gorgeously
coloured balsams, and the spikes of a Dendrobium
studded with orange-yellow flowers. |

At dusk a woman, followed by a little girl dragging ~
a reluctant dog at the end of a string, waded the
torrent more confidently than we had done, picking |

THE CROSSBOW 117

her way over the gravel bar where the water was
‘rough, but shallower; while I went into the river
for a short swim above the rapid. ‘There is a single
plank bridge over the torrent a few hundred yards
up-stream, spanning a gorge, but the ford saves
distance.

Then came supper under the stars, the temperature,
sheltered by the trees, being 65°

Out of the darkness strange winged creatures fly
into the wan halo of light cast by the lantern, and
commit suicide in the condensed milk; slender-bodied,
long-legged stick-insects follow, and hopping moths
of brilliant hue.

The start was delayed on 20th August owing to
the discovery that the men had not provided suflcient
rice. However, we heard news of a cache in a Yawyin
village above, and having climbed up to it found
several bags in a hut. Two of these we commandeered,
leaving a fabulous sum in payment to salve our
conscience.

Then another als occurred, the rest of the porters
being discerned in the distance climbing straight up
the flank of the mountain, as though to cross the
Imaw Bum range and come down into the ?Nmai
valley direct, instead of continuing up the Ngawchang
and so into the Laking valley over the Wulaw Pass.!
By the time we had recalled them the day was half
spent; it was drizzling too, the mountains swathed
in mist.

We had a fair amount of climbing up and down,

1 The Wulaw Pass is not on the main Salween-Irrawaddy divide,

but separates the basins of two rivers both flowing down to the
Irrawaddy from that divide. It is actually a ridge, not a col.

118 IN THE LAND OF

often in thick forest. The undergrowth consisted
mostly of ferns, flowers being rather rare in the semi-
darkness. Here and there we found a small monks-
hood, or species of Strobilanthes, or of orange-flowered
Globba, and the huge umbrella-shaped leaf of an
Amorphophallus, or the umbels of scarlet and black
berries of Panax ginseng. Wherever there was water,
rank masses of gorgeous balsams glared, and the tree
trunks hung out orchid sprays and the slender tubes of
a brilliant scarlet Aeschynanthus.

Soon we came to another suspension bridge, with
an easy ford just below—indeed the river here seemed
fordable in most places even now, and later in the
year it would offer no obstacle at all. The bed is
considerably broader than where the river enters the
limestone gorge above Black Rock, though the moun-
tains rise more steeply from the water’s edge. The
left bank especially, though clothed with dense forests,
is very precipitous, the trees often clinging to bare
rock; and as I looked at those mountains, springing
tier -on tier above the brawling river, I thought
what a magnificent virgin field was here for the
naturalist.

Fish traps are met with from time to time, both
in torrents where they join the main river, and in the
Ngawchang itself.

A bamboo fence is built out from the shore and a
long, hollow tree trunk buried in the shingle beneath
it, both ends being left open, and a conical net attached
to the lower end. The water banks up against the
fence, and any fish swept through the tube are caught
in the net. 3

Unable to reach a village before dark, we camped

THE CROSSBOW 11g

for the night in a thicket, with tall, saw-edged grass,
alders, ragged bushes and brambles all round us; a
worsesplace for mosquitoes and sand-flies we could not
have selected.

A shower passed over at nightfall, and was followed
by a starry sky which lasted an hour. But had there
been no drizzling rain to add, in the absence of
tents or natural shelter, to our discomfort, there
would have been little sleep for anyone that night,
and I was thankful for daylight. The minimum
temperature was 62°9° F.

Starting early, we soon reached a Yawyin village on
a broad platform which sloped down to the river,
the right bank being more open here, the mountains
farther back. But the left bank was an uncom-
promising wall of forest, showing the Salween divide,
separating Chinese from British territory, to be a
most formidable barrier.

After leaving this village we had five hours’ hard
work, climbing many hundreds of feet to the summit
of one spur, only to drop down on to a deep-flowing
torrent on the other side and start climbing up again.

These torrents are tumultuous blasts of water leap-
ing thunderously amongst big boulders in the cool
gloom of the everlasting forest; there is a clammy
feeling in the air, as of a toad’s skin; no sunlight
gets through the dense roof to kiss the shivering
balsams that crowd at the water’s edge, wetted in
the flying spray, or the scarlet trumpets of Aeschy-
nanthus that loll from the moss-coated tree trunks,

The bellow of the torrent fills the air, and every
inch of ground is covered with dumbly struggling,
sappy and enervated plants, which surge to the very

120 IN THE LAND OF

roots of the trees and overflow the confused boulders;
tall creepers hanging from aloft veil the light yet
further, and one is glad to climb out of this dim
oppression on to the sunny hill-side, with its rank,
plebeian growths and cruel, saw-edged grass, as
quickly as possible.

We passed a few men on this march, two Chinese
pedlars, their goods carried in baskets on the backs
of coolies, and several men stumbling slowly along
with coffin planks, though, as stated, they are usually
floated down to Kang-fang. From time to time a
shower happened along, but it was not seriously
wet.

After a tiring day throughout which the trail had
grown persistently worse and the climbing more
arduous, we reached at dusk two tiny hovels perched -
up amongst the green maize on a steep taungya, as
remote a place as one could come across, and slept
snugly. )

The next day’s march was very similar, but a change
was stealing over the valley, the path keeping well
above and some distance back from the river, which
was now little more than a big torrent flowing in
an inaccessible forested gorge.

From the scorching, shadeless hill-side we would
plunge terrifically down into the benighted forest,
by an execrable path slippery with mud, cross some
ravenous torrent by a single tree trunk, and climb
laboriously up out of the gulf into the hot: sunlight
again; and watching these white cataracts roaring
out from amongst the trees and rocks higher up the
glen, I always longed to start off up-stream, tracing
them back to their puny sources in the cloud-veiled

THE CROSSBOW > 121

mountains of the Imaw Bum range, where no white
man had ever trod. But there was no time for any
such side ventures.

At midday we reached a Yawyin village of six huts
and in the evening a second one as large.

These huts are quite small, with walls of bamboo
matting and plank floors, roofed with split bamboos
in several layers placed alternately with convex and
concave faces uppermost, thus forming a system of
corrugated tiles. Being built on the spurs which
slope steeply down to the river, they are always
raised on piles, with rickety verandahs on two sides,
along which one has to stoop to avoid the projecting
eaves. The door is reached after performing com-
plicated balancing feats on a notched log, which does
duty for a ladder, and the interior is completely
divided into three or four rooms. |

They are nothing like as big as the Lashi, Maru
and Kachin huts, and differ further in the absence
of the big front porch, and in the rooms being
completely divided off, without any central passage.

As for the people, we found them charming, and
it is good to think that these hardy mountaineers are
crowding over the frontier into the dour valleys of
the Burmese hinterland. Though they are much
nicer looking than most of the tribes up here—the
lantern-jawed men look as proud and fierce as Red
Indians—they grow cadaverous as they age, when
the Mongolian relationship comes out much more
clearly. They are often long-headed, with quite a
fine profile, and the girls have merry, round
faces, pink cheeks and large, frank eyes; they show
off their figures to advantage by wrapping a long

122 IN THE LAND OF

sash round the waist—a Li-kiang habit. Indeed
many of them claim to have come from Li-kiang,
which suggests a relationship to the Mosos, and
through them to the Tibetans.

Most of them can speak a certain amount ot
Chinese, and there can be no doubt that they are
pressing slowly up the Ngawchang valley from the
south, as well as crossing direct from the Salween
valley. Where the Lashi is already in occupation,
they ascend the mountains and plant their villages
above his, but here they have extended far beyond
the limits of the Lashi, and are doggedly opening
up virgin ground. Nothing could promise more
brightly for this bitter country, and it may be that
in time the vigorous Yawyins will overrun the indolent
Lashis, and replace them in the lower valleys.

The dress of the Yawyin girls is extremely
picturesque—a harlequin skirt of many colours, or
more exactly three, buff, ochre-red and chocolate,
arranged in broad stripes, with a short jacket; a
sash tied round the waist, and an ordinary Chinese
turban worn in place of the scarf affected by the
more prosperous Yawyins of the T‘eng-yueh district.
Cloth gaiters, similar to those of the Lashis, are
generally worn by the men, who otherwise have
adopted Chinese dress, and all go about barefooted.

Their food consists chiefly of a sort of porridge,
made from buckwheat, with coarse cakes of the
same unpalatable grain, and vegetable soup, with
fowls and eggs occasionally—little more than the bare
necessaries of life. But they are always hospitable
and even generous.

Their weapon is the crossbow, with fire-ardened

THE CROSSBOW 123

bamboo arrows, poisoned with aconite; and the dah,
a short, straight-bladed knife of soft iron.

We spent the whole of the next day, 23rd August,
grinding corn for the journey over the Wulaw Pass,
as this was the last village at which adequate supplies
could be obtained. There was only one hand-mill,
so it took a long time to fill all the skin bags with
flour. JI took a turn at swinging the heavy stone
round and round, feeding the maize corn into a
little hole in the upper stone, and collecting the
flour which was squeezed out between the two; but
my shoulder, unused to the work, soon tired.

In the evening we had some sports, jumping, putting
the weight—a large boulder—and a comic turn by my
Maru interpreter, a most amusing fellow, who in his
grotesque, but often successful, efforts to pick up
sticks while tangled into knots kept the rest of us
in fits of laughter.

That night, or rather in the very early morning, the
temperature sank as low as 60°3° F., and we awoke in
the clouds, which were falling about us in rain after
breakfast; and so it continued all day, with the briefest
intervals.

We marched four hours in the morning, and four
more in the afternoon, climbing over the spurs, now
grown mountain-high, across occasional taungya, tra-
versing steep, forested slopes where there was scarce
foothold for a goat; so that for all our marching we
made scarcely five miles’ progress up the valley.

At midday we struck almost the last Yawyin village,
comprising three huts—the site was but two seasons
old, these people having come from Yun-nan the year
before.

124 IN THE LAND OF

There were two remarkably pretty girls here, with
whom my men promptly started an outrageous flirtation.

When these tribespeople fraternise, they break the
ice by offering each other pan and lime from the little
bamboo boxes they carry, as an Englishman would offer
a cigarette; and I watched one of my Lashis, who
could not speak a word of Yawyin, dumbly offer his to
a pretty girl, blinking self-consciously under a glow of
smiles from his companions.

The huts here had a floor of bamboo matting instead
of boards, and the roof too was made of a single piece
of matting bent over in the form of an arch. At dusk,
in pouring rain, we reached Wulaw, a village of eight
huts.

We saw many magnolia trees in the forest this day,
which showed that we were steadily ascending.

Rain was falling from a perfect blanket of mist when
we awoke on 25th August, and a minimum temperature
of 61° F. scarcely gives an indication of the chill damp-
ness.

We soon reached the last outpost of the advancing
Yawyins in the Ngawchang valley, two huts on the
very edge of the forest, in a newly felled clearing not
yet burnt. There was a T‘eng-yueh pedlar here, sell-
ing Chinese jackets and loose trousers of dark blue
cotton cloth such as the Panthay muleteers wear in
Yun-nan, and purchasing coffin planks, half-a-dozen of
which were leaning against a tree.

From this point we plunged into the forested wilder-
ness, and after a stiff climb camped about five o’clock
at an altitude of over 8000 feet. Those who reached
the water-hole first had the pleasure of building the
huts, while the sluggards came in to find camp prepared.

THE CROSSBOW 125

There were plenty of bamboos in the forest, and
scarcely any undergrowth, so we had no difficulty in
rigging up shelters, which were built entirely of
bamboo, roofed either with branches or with split
bamboo tiles, like the huts we had seen; and in spite
of the rain we made ourselves snug. My own shelter
was made with a central ridge pole, across which
bamboos, half cut through, were bent, being tied to
the cross pieces by thin strips of bamboo; and over
this framework I spread my valise.

There was a very big conifer (Pseudotouga sp.)
growing here, and many gnarled oaks, amongst the
intricate mossy roots of which hundreds of voles? had
their burrows. So open is this park forest that except
when following some well-defined feature, such as
a ridge, it is impossible to find the way, and one might
vainly wander for hours through the silent glades,
looking for a trail to follow.

1 Vandeluria dumeticola, Hodgson.

CHAPTER VIII

OVER THE WULAW PASS

LL night it rained, and there was a marked
A drop in temperature, the minimum registering
50°? F. :

It was useless waiting for the rain to stop, so we
started off at nine, ascending steeply by a ridge. So
slippery was it, however, that after four hours’ heart-
breaking work, during which little progress was made,
the men refused to go on, and we halted in the forest,
drenched to the skin and shivering with cold. The
altitude was about 10,000 feet, judging by the fir-
trees and rhododendrons which surrounded us.

Making the best of a bad business, we built our
leaky little shelters and got the fires going; we even
pretended to be cheerful—lI believe the Yawyins really
were! Anyhow, as I lay curling up on my bed, almost
afraid to move lest I should upset the shelter, with
streams of water dripping in, I heard them singing
away by their fire as though they had not a trouble in
the world.

It was a wretched night of pouring rain, minimum
temperature 49°5° F., nor did it show any indication of
stopping in the morning. All the fires were out, and
it took so long to start them again, pack up our sodden
things with numbed hands, or move at all in the
confined space of our huts that it was nearly midday
before we got off. |

126

OVER THE WULAW PASS. 127

Once outside, thoroughly soaked’ again, it was not
so bad, for movement was much to be preferred to the
previous inactivity.

First came a steep climb up through fir and rhodo-
dendron forest, where there was more undergrowth
than usual, to the summit of the ridge.

Here we were exposed to a raw wind from the
south-west. There was nothing to protect us, and,
shivering with cold, we made our way for hatha snile
or more, up and down along the open ridge through
scrub rhododendron? and bamboo grass three feet high.
The highest point of the ridge, between 11,000 and
12,000 feet, was soon reached, but ahead, dimly seen
through the mist, rose a still higher peak.

Eastwards we looked over a sea of gloomy mountains,
and my guide pointed out a path which he said went
to the Shapa Lisu country, probably across the high
range of mountains which divides this region from the
Salween valley, since he said that it was eight days’
march to the first village!

At last we left the open ridge and began to descend
a spur on the right, soon reaching the comparative
shelter of trees and bamboos again.

So far the ridge had proved rather disappointing in
flowers, though I had found a solitary and bedraggled
primula amongst ‘the scrub, and presently I came on
a fine crimson-flowered lily (L. Thompsonianum).

But now quite suddenly we found ourselves in a
bewitching garden, the path bordered with spotted
pink Nomocharis growing in the grass under shelter of
the bamboos, with patches of saxifrage hard by, and
grass-of-Parnassus.

* R. oporinum, sp. nov. flowers.

128 OVER THE WULAW PASS

Then, leaving this ridge, we plunged down the slope
on our left, through fir forest, and emerged on to a
grassy meadow lining a stream which splashed and
gurgled amidst a perfectly dazzling display of flowers.
Enclosing this enchanted spot, the forested slopes rose
on every hand; but the stream meandered through
‘them, accompanied by its strip of meadow, which
floored the tiny valley with flowers.

There were purple-flowered Allium, and tall cabbage-
leafed Senecio, sheets of white grass-of-Parnassus, stiff
louseworts, delicate Cremanthodium, and a mammoth
Rheum, standing up erect as a grenadier, six feet high.
But most welcome of all, I caught sight of the twisted
conical capsules, full of flat seeds, of one of that
curious race of primulas (perhaps P. Delavayi) which
now many botanists consider are not really primulas
at all, but which are provisionally grouped together in
a section called Omphalogramma. ‘This was a treasure

indeed, and [ collected all the seed I could find, for my ~

discovery extended the distribution of these pseudo-
_ primulas, and might prove a link between the Himalayan
and Chinese representatives.

Tramping down this stream, which swelled rapidly
as other streams came gushing in right and left from
the closely surrounding wooded hills, we presently
came to thickets of shrubs and a wild tangle of
_ climbing monkshood, bell-flower and starry stitchwort,
with giant meadow-rue, larkspur, Umbelliferee and
many other things.

The country here was most remarkable; I have never
seen anything like it elsewhere. The Feng-shui-ling
was the nearest approach to it, but quite in miniature,
and the mountains there were fully 2000 feet lower.

OVER THE WULAW PASS 129

Our altitude must have been somewhere between
10,000 and 11,000 feet, and we were surrounded on all
sides by a tangle of low, rounded hills, amongst which
rushed hither and thither a network of frothing brooks.

The hills loomed up shadow-like and indistinct in
the whirling mist, which clung like smoke to the tree-
tops; wooded to their summits with rhododendrons,
bamboos and fir, they peeped at us over each other’s
shoulders from every direction, while the streams
which bubbled at their feet were lined with meadow,
and the flowers grew like the magic beanstalk. Masses
of violet-flowered Strobilanthes! flourished here. Some-
times the passage between two hills was so narrow
that we had to paddle along in the stream, while giant
meadow-rues and long, clinging monkshoods showered
their burden of raindrops playfully on us as we
brushed through; sometimes we would emerge into
a little grassy dell tucked away in a fold of the hills,
with streams splashing down all around us. »

So we went up one stream, over a low col, and down
another, then across a stream to another valley, on and
on, till my sense of direction was utterly mazed, and
still the wooded hills, blurred in mist and rain, rose
all about us, and the song of the rising torrents grew
shriller. |

Then quite suddenly the meadow widened out, and
where the tall flowers swayed graciously all round us
I came on what I sought. They were standing in a
row as stiff as though on parade, just above the edge
of the meadow bordering the woodland, a line of
glorious poppyworts. So the missing link was found,
and the flora of the Imaw Bum range definitely

| 1 Amongst them S. oresbius, sp. nov.
I

1430 OVER THE WULAW PASS

connected through that of the Mekong-Salween divide
with that of the Himalaya.

This Meconopsis (M. Wallichii) grew seven feet
high, and had pale purple flowers one and a half inches
across, massed with a tassel of golden anthers in the
centre. The flowers are small in comparison with
many of its kind, but they are borne in remarkable

numbers; one plant I examined, which had a seven- —

foot stem, bore 16 buds, 27 flowers and 103 fruits— —

nearly 150 flowers in all, though not blooming simul-
taneously. It may be wondered how so many flowers
of this size are crowded on a seven-foot stem, but it is
quite simple. They are borne in short racemes six to
nine inches long, of about seven flowers, each raceme,
springing from the axil of a strap-shaped, drooping leaf,

closely pressed against the main stem, which itself ends —

in a flower, giving a wonderful concentration of colour.
The whole thus forms an immense panicle, the tall
stem studded from top to bottom first with fat ovoid
buds, then with flowers, and below with capsules, I
collected seed of this species (familiar from the Hima-
laya), but it was not quite ripe and did not survive the
journey to England.

But it was now growing dusk, and we were all
weary, our hands and feet swollen with the continuous
soaking; also we had had nothing to eat since eight

o’clock breakfast, as the weather had been too bad to

allow of halting for a meal, and we had been marching
with scarcely a break for nearly six hours.
Consequently it was with some relief that I heard,

while collecting my meconopsis, the glad ring of dah

against wood not far ahead; and following up the

sound, discovered my men on the summit of a small

OVER THE WULAW PASS 131

knoll from which they were clearing the bamboos.
Through the red-barked trees I saw the fires already
gleaming. ©

It was dark before the shelters were finished and
we snuggled into our wet nests; late before I got any
dinner; but these things did not matter. What did
matter was the fact that no sooner were we established
on our hill-top than we were surrounded by myriads
of tiny sand-flies which bit like fury. There was a
perfect fog of them, and they caused us dreadful
anguish, even the hardy natives hopping about; as for
me, my face, neck and wrists were covered with bumps
in a very short time, and I was itching all over. [ lit
two candles of my slender stock, and thousands rushed
to their death in the flames; but their numbers were
nowise diminished.

Thus with pouring rain the wicked night passed, and
dawn came, lowering.

It was still pouring when we got up next morning,
28th August, after a minimum of 50°3° F., but ceased
just as we turned our backs on Wulaw. In winter
these mountains are covered under deep snow and it
must be bitterly cold here for months. I have never
seen even in Yun-nan a more wonderful place for
flowers than Wulaw, nor one more difficult of access,
nor more hedged round with tortures for those who
would brave its terrors. It will defy the collector, and
guard its treasures long, for I hardly think a white
man could spend a season there and live.

Our route took us down the rocky bed of a narrow
stream, the almost precipitous banks of which were
smothered with flowering shrubs and small trees of
cherry, birch, maple and rowan, with bamboos and

—

132 OVER THE WULAW PASS

rhododendron higher up. As for the giant herbs
springing from either bank, they met and embraced
overhead, bridging the narrow defile, so that we passed
beneath arches of purple meadow-rue or brushed
through tangles of yellow Corydalis and white plumes
of Astilbe, which is like meadowsweet. By the

' water’s edge were beds of orange-spotted monkey-

flower, and balsam with pendent crimson bugles, saxi-
frages, primulas and lilies, mixed up with bushes of
hydrangea, currant and hairy-leafed raspberry. It
was bewildering, this rampant growth of struggling,
long-limbed flowers in the dim-walled bed of the
bubbling beck.

Presently a small black creature darted through the
foaming water in front of me, and grabbing hastily,
I caught it in my hand. It had shiny black fur like
a mole’s, which refused to be wetted, and the little
creature proved to be none other than one of those
rare insectivorous animals known ‘as a water shrew.*

But now other rills came tumbling in, laughing with -

joy, and the beck grew and grew, though the gorge
did not broaden, only the walls rose higher, frowning
down on us, with a riband of sky visible overhead.
Swifter and swifter flowed the stream down its smooth,
rocky bed, till at last it leapt over a fall too high for
us to negotiate, and we started traversing along the
steep clay bank to a track above, which soon left yi
restless stream far below.

Now matters became more difficult, for we had to

cross numerous torrents which had cut deeply into the ©

soft hill-side; and the rain having turned the surface

1 Chimarrogale styani, the second known example. The first was.

taken in Kansu, North-West China.

OVER THE WULAW PASS 133

to clay, we slithered down the high banks, and ex-
perienced the greatest difficulty in climbing up the
other side.

At first we were in mixed forest, but as we
descended the conifers disappeared, and their place
was taken by grand deciduous-leafed trees; here and
there were open glades, as in a park, filled not indeed
with bracken, but with masses of violet Strobilanthes
and white-flowered Polygonum, growing man -high
round the enormous tree trunks.

Then came gloomy, impenetrable forests of bamboo
whose thick, leafy growth overhead cut out all
daylight.

During a brief halt for lunch we were attacked by
bees which appeared in such numbers that they
eventually routed us. Continuing to descend, we at
last slid down a steep clay slide and reaching the
confluence of two fairly big streams, started to paddle
again.

Presently crossing to the far bank, we began to
climb once more, up, up, up, till we seemed to have
ascended as much as we had previously descended.
No words can convey how exhausting this work
was.

It was unutterably dismal in these bamboo forests
—no song of birds, no ray of sunlight, no wayside
flowers, nothing but the patter of rain on the leaves
above, and the eternal drip, drip of water.

At last, about five o’clock, the vanguard of our now
straggling party, comprising three Yawyins and myself
(they were always to the fore, splendid fellows!),
stood on a low pass, looking over into what seemed
in the mist and rain, to be a big valley.

re P a
i
‘y
sy

1334 OVER THE WULAW PASS

Down we plunged through the cold stream, splashing
along, covered with leeches, and so thoroughly soaked

and saturated that the water seemed to penetrate

our very skins, till at six o’clock, by which time we.

had come some distance and the baby stream had
swollen to fair size, we came suddenly on a big shelter
already set up, and halted thankfully. There was
just a thatch roof, sloping up from the ground, large
enough for us all; and we were glad to have it.

An hour later another batch of men, mostly Yaw-
yins, arrived, and even after dark one or two more
straggled in; but several of the Lashis, including the
one who carried my food, did not come in at all that
night. | |

However, we lit a fire and spread out our bedding
under the lean-to, and in spite of a coldish wind
slept well after our strenuous march; for, heaven be
praised, there were few sand-flies, and the bees we
could cope with.

Sitting round a big fire in comfort, listening to the
wet bamboos sizzling and exploding on the fire with
loud pops, was pleasant enough; next day, the men
said, we should reach the first Maru village.

T‘ung-ch‘ien was in good spirits and astonished the
Yawyins by telling them of the marvels of Mandalay
and Rangoon, whither he had accompanied me, and
of the railway train and steamer, and how many days’
march they go in a day. Or he would talk to them
of Tibet, and sing Moso songs, which were always
greeted with loud laughter.

Though it rained all night we kept fairly dry, and
by eight o’clock it had ceased. An hour later the
three remaining porters arrived, having spent an un-

ts
7

OVER THE WULAW PASS 135

comfortable night in the forest Heber up. So we
started again.

And now for the first time we got something of a
view, towering limestone cliffs looming up ahead; but
whether they were across the valley we were looking
into, or bounded our own valley, it was impossible to
say, and seething mists soon hid them again.

We passed several bamboo rat traps set up on the
bank of the stream, for the Marus catch and eat
vermin; also little fenced-off places where grew the
plant called by the Chinese huang-lien (Coptis teeta),
a Ranunculaceous plant, the root of which is used
medicinally. ‘The Marus come up into these forests
for jungle produce of this sort, also to hunt the takin,
serow, bear and other animals.

Here and there gigantic trunks of the coflin-plank
tree lay across our path, and as we emerged at last
from the twilight of the forest we saw across the
stream, high up on the opposite side of the valley, a
number of these big trees; they stood out very plainly
from amongst the deciduous-leafed trees which sur-
rounded them, conspicuous by their shape, their colour
and above all by their size.

Sliding and tripping we came down a tremendously
steep hill-side in the open, and saw the village of
Che-wen below on the left bank of a considerable
stream which flowed in a deep valley.

An hour later we were splashing through the sties
and mud-holes of a Maru village, its dozen huts stand-
ing amongst little fenced-off gardens, where grew
beans, tobacco, opium poppies and a few peach-trees.

Pigs grunted and scuttled, an odd cow or two stood
uncompromisingly in the fairway, and women seated

136 OVER THE WULAW PASS

in the porches looked up from their weaving and stared
at us. However, we were well received, and soon
shown into a house, whereupon the inhabitants crowded
round the doorway to gaze at me.

At last I was able to take off my wet clothes, and
having started a big fire in the room placed at my dis-
posal, we set to work drying everything.

These huts, made of bamboo matting, raised on
stilts with hard floors of wooden boards laid across beams,
narrow verandahs and front porch, are small, like the
Yawyin huts, not at all like the typical Maru huts of
the 7Nmai valley. Outside the houses are small box-
like granaries raised high on four stout pillars capped
with circular discs of wood, which serve to defeat the
rats. /

Fields of maize and buckwheat slope down to the river.
Beyond, the shadowy outlines of high mountains dis-
appear into the rain mists. Up the valley and across
the Salween divide, distant eight marches, lies the
country of the Shapa Lisus, an evil tribe, according to
Maru tradition; but this is not altogether surprising,
since they wage a continuous defensive warfare against
the Chinese, whose ruthless efforts to exterminate
them are calculated to: sharpen all their latent pratnang
and cruelty.

These Shapa Lisus come across the mountains selling
cattle, salt, cotton clothes and iron cooking pots, all
obtained from Yun-nan, buying Auang-lien in exchange ;
thus they act as middlemen between the Chinese and
Marus for trade purposes. Chinese traders themselves
sometimes penetrate into these inhospitable mountains.

It may be remarked here that the Lisus* do not

1 Lisu is the tribal name, and includes the clan known as Yawyin.

ee na
ee

OVER THE WULAW PASS 137

believe in ats, the elfish and capricious spirits of
mountain, river and forest which watch over the lives
of the great Kachin family inhabiting the Burmese
hinterland; and their practice of putting the things
' used in this life—crossbow, pipe, wine jar and hat—on
_ the grave, for the use of the spirit, is distinctly Chinese.
These considerations point to an eastern rather than
a northern original home for the Lisus.

As to the Marus, I was not altogether favourably -

impressed with their dirty appearance; but first
impressions are notoriously deceptive, and later they
displayed redeeming qualities which endeared them to
me far more than their cousins, the Lashis.

Amongst their more distinctive peculiarites is the
mop of unkempt hair, rarely tied in a brief pig-tail, like
a Jack Tar of Nelson’s day, or in a knot on top of the
head. The men usually wear a brown or blue striped
kilt, like a Burmese J/one-gyi, dyed locally with jungle
dyes; but occasionally Chinese fashions are followed.

It does not appear, however, that the Chinese have
ever gained much of a footing over here. Barring an
occasional cotton garment—for the Marus cannot sew
—or a red-buttoned skull-cap, the only thing Chinese
I saw was a set of scales, as used for weighing silver in
China. They were being used by one of my Lashis,
who was exchanging glass beads for cane rings, made
of thin strips of rattan, such as all the men, and
women too, wear round the leg; and a bargain was
struck by weight.

As for unmarried girls, they cut their hair in a fringe
all round. Their tight skirts of white hemp cloth,
home woven, reach just below the knee, and they wear
a low-necked blue cotton jacket with short sleeves,

—

”
138 OVER THE WULAW PASS

embroidered with cowry shells, or buttons, according to
the state of the market. Other finery—bead necklaces,
iron hoops with bells, and earrings, or tubes, resemble ©
those of the Lashis.

It continued to rain, for we were still well in the
mountains, but the much lower altitude we had attained
was reflected in the warmer night— minimum tempera-
ture 64°8° F., nearly 15° higher than on Wulaw.

As the rain showed no signs of stopping, I felt
inclined to rest on 30th August; but a break occurring
in the afternoon, I changed my mind, and we started
about two. |

Fight of the Yawyins brought from the Ngawchang
went back from here, their place being taken by Marus. -

Near the village the path was frequently interrupted
by stout fences, which serve to keep the cattle from
straying.

In less than two hours we reached the Laking hka,
of which this was a tributary. ‘The Laking is a fair-
sized river, thirty yards across, flowing with a swift
current; just above the confluence a cane bridge
spanned the Che-wen stream, and on the far bank
stood another village. But of camping grounds, save
a considerable pebble bank in the bed of the Laking,
there was no sign, though to the Maru and Yawyin
any place where water, bamboos and firewood are
obtainable is a camping ground, so there is no need >
for the solitary traveller to worry. OnlyI should not
care to campaign in such a country. ;

Immediately below the confluence of the Che-wen
stream with the Laking hka the latter enters a magni-
ficent limestone gorge embroidered with rich forest.
The track soon leaves the boulders in the river bed

OVER THE WULAW PASS 139

and climbing sharply, becomes difficult; precipices are
_ ascended by means of notched logs, deep gullies crossed
| by means of tree trunks, and both were now slippery

__ with rain and mud.

_ Presently we descended to the river bed again,

where the water foamed over rapids, and a few minutes

later were once more climbing steeply up a slippery

path almost buried in vegetation.

Came yet another descent to the river bed, and com-
paratively easy going over the boulders. There was
a quiet stretch of water here, with a rapid under the
far bank, so one of the Marus, with a view to display-
ing his prowess, slipped off his kilt—the only garment
he was wearing, by the way—and swam out to mid-
river, with slow breast stroke, turning back when he
met the stronger water on the other side.

Lastly we climbed by a steep, muddy path several
hundred feet above the river, and emerged from the
forested gorge into more open country. At dusk we
reached a village situated in a bay of the mountains, a
thousand feet above the river.

This village was called Magri, or Mang-yam, and I
was not a little surprised to meet five Chinamen from
the Mekong valley here. They were pedlars from the
village of Ying-p‘an-kai, and were on their way to the
’Nmai valley, selling salt, cloth and iron cooking pots.
They had crossed from the Mekong to the Salween
and thence by Lakhe Pass, 13,000 feet high, into the
Laking valley, a fifteen days’ journey.

‘So far it had scarcely ceased to rain, but my Maru
porters were quite indifferent to the weather, for they
wore circular bamboo hats almost as large as an
umbrella, and long capes of palm leaves thrown over

140 OVER THE WULAW PASS

their shoulders, from which the water dripped rapidly.
Also each man carried a long iron-headed spear to ae
him over the slippery path.

And so we entered our hut, where nailed to the
central pillar of the porch, and to the beams inside,
were the skulls of wild animals slain in the chase with
crossbow and poisoned arrow—monkey, takin, serow
and bear, besides domestic mithan, which are kept for
sacrificial purposes.

CHAPTER IX

BY THE SINGING RIVER

HE valley was as usual full of cloud in the
early morning, but in spite of a preliminary
shower it soon cleared up and we enjoyed
several hours’ bright sunshine, the first for some
days. These continual remarks on the weather may
be dull—the weather was, anyhow—but they are quite
necessary for a proper appreciation of the climate
on the North-East Frontier, with its consequent re-
action on the scenery, vegetation and people. All of
these are in the strongest contrast to those of the
more familiar North-West Frontier, or (which is more
to the point) to those of the Yun-nan mountains farther
east.

Descending to the river bed by a steep path, we
pursued our way leisurely now over big bare boulders,
now through the forest over some projecting cliff.
Brilliant orange and purple balsams coloured the rocks,
and when the sun came out gorgeous butterflies flitted
along the fringing forest above the furious waters;
for the river was very swift here, generally from forty
to sixty yards broad.

At midday we crossed a big tributary by a swinging
cane. bridge, and dropping into the river bed again,
lay out on a sand-bank in the sunshine for lunch.
Along came a man with a dead rat, which he offered
us; but our supplies were not yet so depleted that
7 14

142 BY THE SINGING RIVER

we needed to accept the morsel, and eventually at
ate it himself.

After a dolce far niente—for it was jolly here basking
in the sunshine by the singing river—we went on
down the valley clasped between high wooded moun-
tains where Ficus trees, wild bananas, and plumes of
bamboo, with here and there graceful tree ferns, and
down by the water tall sago palms were each in turn
conspicuous. |

The change in the vee was very marked
here.

Since crossing the Lawkhaung ridge in May we
had seen no bananas, sago palms or fig-trees; here
they abounded, with a wealth of forest trees,

Pines, alders and rhododendrons, on the other hand,
were lacking. We were back in the monsoon forest
again—and yet it was not real monsoon forest, for —
there is probably no period of drought here, and
the forest is certainly evergreen. We had passed from
a preponderately Chinese flora to an Indo-Malayan
flora.

Paddling through shallow water round a cliff, we
presently crossed to the right bank by a fine cane
bridge sixty yards in length, and toiling up the khud
reached a village of seven huts called Tum-dang;
but disdaining to quit so early, we descended to
the river again, here goaded to uncontrolled fury by
obstructing boulders, climbed over another cliff, and
finally reached Sajor, comprising seven big huts perched
on a high spur.

It was languidly peaceful up here in these forgotten
villages of the warm Laking valley, the only sounds
heard being the rasping whir-r-r whir-r-r of cicadas

BY THE SINGING RIVER 143

on the tree trunks, and the river buffeting its way
through the gorge. As for birds, we rarely heard,
still less saw, any.

The huts were full size now, not less than sixty
yards long, with a wide open porch in front where
the women pound corn or sit weaving cloth. Over
the projecting front eave is sometimes set a sort of
crescent, something like a pair of mithan horns, just
as you see over many huts in the Naga Hills.

A thunderstorm brushed past us in the night; but
though we could not see a hundred yards through the
mist at half-past six, the sun was shining brightly when
we started two hours later.

Sliding down a steep path of red clay, with the
dew hanging in glistening drops on the ferns and
grasses, and on the tall club-mosses which stood erect
in the silver sand like little fir-trees crowned with
cones, reminded me of an autumn morning in England ;
but next moment we were down by the roaring river
again, amidst palms and bamboos. Clambering over
boulders, along rock ledges and over cliffs, we passed
several cane bridges, which must have led to villages
on the opposite bank, but they were quite invisible
in the forest, though occasionally we glimpsed clearings
high up.

Presently we came to a fish-trap out in mid-river,
where stood a big boulder. A stout post had been
driven into the river bed near by, and a couple of
cane ropes stretched from a tree overhanging the bank
to this post. Slung on the ropes were two large
cane rings, about a foot in diameter, and to reach
the fish-trap you climbed the tree, thrust a leg through
each ring, as it were a breeches-buoy, and holding

144. BY THE SINGING RIVER|

on to the cables, hauled yourself along. It was hard
enough work going down, with the sag of the ropes
to help you, but infinitely worse getting back again.
If you let go to rest your arms you fell out of the
rings into the river below, or at least hung head
downwards, with little prospect of regaining an upright
position.

The going now, whether actually in the dry river
bed or traversing through the forest on the mountain-
side, became worse and worse, much labour for little
progress. Path there was none, except in the forest,
where there was generally a track. |

Once when pulling myself up amongst the rocks

_ [ almost put my hand on a snake which was sunning

itself on a flat-topped boulder; whereupon, at a warning
cry from the man behind, a Maru in front whipped
out his dah and turning cut at it so swiftly that he
almost had some of my fingers off instead of the
snake’s head. He was only a little fellow—the
snake I mean, not the Maru—about two feet long,
black, with a yellow collar and coral-red speckles,
probably harmless; but I always found the natives
show the same instinctive distrust for reptiles that
Europeans do.

The hillmen are very jealous of their dahs, any in-
jury against a rock causing great distress. Whenever
we halted in the river bed they would search out
suitable flat stones and, squatting down, set to work
sharpening their precious knives.

Farther on we came to a group of almost naked
men squatting round the embers of a fire over a midday
meal of boiled rice, which they were eating with their
fingers from banana leaves. They looked such utter

BY THE SINGING RIVER 145

savages squatting there in the dark jungle that it was
difficult to recognise in them the mild Marus.

It is rather strange that the whole Tibeto-Burman
family, even the highly civilised Burmans themselves,
should eat with their fingers, while their near neigh-
bours, the Chinese, have invented the ingenious and
simple chopsticks for the same purpose.

Now we crossed a tributary stream flowing in a
deep gorge, by three large bamboos thrown across
and lashed together, further supported by cables of
twisted bamboo fastened to trees on either bank; a
flimsy hand-rail was also provided, designed more with
a view to give confidence than for actual support, as
the bamboos were slippery.

We were down in the tropical jungles again now,
though actually more than 200 miles north of the
tropics. On every hand grew splendid Ficus trees,
from the trunks of which dangled huge bunches of
green fig-like fruit. Another species with curiously
lop-sided leaves dropped from its lowest branches long
whip-like shoots, which, trailing over the ground, bore
luscious fruit. ‘These we searched out and ate. Most
of the vast order of figs, so typical of the oriental
forests, and so diverse in habit and appearance (yet so
easily recognised in all its forms, from giant tree to
humble prostrate creeper), have inedible fruits, but this
(F. cunia) was an exception.

In the river bed we found a mangosteen! tree and
picked up some quite good fruit, which we likewise
ate.

Then there were bird’s-nest ferns sprouting bayonet-
like from trees whose boughs were fringed with oak-
1 Garcinia sp.

146 BY THE SINGING RIVER

leaf ferns, and roped together with corkscrew lianas ;
violet and yellow Chirita on the wet. rocks, and in
the dark dampness of the bamboos the mottled stem
and solitary leaf of an Amorphophallus. But right
down in the river bed, where the sun glistened fiercely
on the white granite boulders, scraggy bushes of
Rhododendron indicum recalled the cold mountains.

And yet here in the tropical jungle, where snakes
and vicious-looking land crabs crawled over the rocks,
and poisonous thorns grew across the path, we were far
less teased by insect life at night than we had been in
the wild wet mountains guarded by those terrible sand-
flies,

After more climbing we came to a part of the river
where the bed shelved rapidly and was choked by
cyclopean blocks of white granite which reflected a
blinding glare of light in the bright sunshine. Here —
the river, by this time swollen to a considerable size,
was a wonderful sight, and from a cane bridge just
below a splendid view of the water foaming down this
granite stairway was obtained.

Amidst sand and boulders under the Lys grew a
gigantic Mucuna, hung all over with bunches of coarse,
canary-yellow, fleshy flowers. They are like pea-
flowers, but thick and bloated and without the wide-
spreading standard. The interlacing stems grow as
thick as a man’s wrist, and the plant forms slovenly ©
bushes needing support, like a wistaria. The pods are
covered with short, stiff, orange-coloured bristles, which
come off easily and stick into the skin, setting up
irritation. :

Soon after leaving the cane bridge we climbed up to
another village—all the villages are perched on flat-

BY THE SINGING RIVER 147

shouldered spurs—and rested for an hour while I had
some tea. ‘There were fields of cotton here. ;

It seemed doubtful whether we should reach Laking,
the village at the confluence of the Laking hka with
the ’Nmai, that night or not; but I was determined to
try, so about five o’clock we set out again.

Continuing the ascent, we were soon high above the
river, which plunged down deeper and deeper into the
bowels of the earth, till close upon sunset we stood on
the last spur and looked clear away westward down
the now open valley; and black against the western
glare a high range of softly rounded mountains appeared,
drawn clean across the horizon. It was the containing
wall of the 7Nmai hka—the Irrawaddy itself!

Behind us grey storm clouds were piling up on the
mountains we had lately crossed, but in front the sun,
wrapped in mackerel sky, had turned the clouds into a
broad lake of chequered silver.

Numerous deep gullies spun out the journey, and in
places steep slabs of granite lay athwart the mountain-
side, in crossing some of which we experienced difficulty
in keeping our balance, so that one of the porters fell
and cut himself painfully.

At last a deeper rent than usual yawned below us
like a wound in the mountain-side, but descending the
path into complete darkness far below, there was heard
only a feeble trickle of water, as though the torrent,
exhausted after its hard work of carving out this
canyon, had slumbered.

A growl of thunder in the mountains behind now
spurred us on, and climbing up from the depths, we
reached the first huts of Laking at seven o’clock, just
as the rain began. We had been ten hours on the road.

148 BY THE SINGING RIVER

Men now came out with lighted torches, and we
were ushered into an enormous hut quite sixty yards
in length, while outside a thunderstorm swooping down
from the east lit up the valley with brilliant flashes of
lightning; however, it was never really very near,
though the porters behind, who arrived an hour later,
came in soaked.

By ten o’clock the moon was shining again, lighting
up little wisps of clouds which floated far down in the
valley; the night was now as tranquil as a New Year’s
night in the Indian Ocean.

‘As already stated, the Maru hut, like the Kachin, is
an enormous structure, sixty or seventy yards in length,
by fifteen to twenty in breadth, divided by a longitudi-
nal partition into a passage on one side and rooms on
the other.

The rooms are more or less completely divided from
each other and from the passage, each room opening on
to the latter by a door, and on to the outside world by
a tiny window under the eave. The front room of the
hut—that next the porch—is larger, occupying the full
breadth, but is not completely shut off from the pass-
age, being divided from it by alternating walls which
jut half-way across from either side, leaving a passage
in between. As the whole is in complete darkness,
even by day, it is by no means easy to find the way
about at first, and one not unnaturally blunders into all
kinds of sacred family hearths. Happily the “ maidens’
hearth” is not tapu, otherwise embarrassing mistakes
might easily be made.

Each room is provided with its earthen hearth, in —
the middle of the floor, and the passage, being open —
to the public, has two or three such hearths at

BY THE SINGING RIVER 149

intervals down its length. The ‘maidens’ hearth,”
reserved to the unmarried girls and their lovers,’ is
the last room in the hut, next to the back door, which
is tapu to humans, being reserved for the ats, though
doubtless used by sly lovers at night.’

In front of the hut is the huge porch, fenced round,
and partly covered in by the gable roof which projects
forward like the stem of a ship, being cut away at
the sides. Great wooden pillars support the heavily
thatched roof, that beneath the gable end being, so
to speak, the corner-stone of the house.

In the porch women pound grain and weave cloth
by day; cattle are tied up at night; while the pigs
live beneath the hut floor, and fowls occupy baskets
under the eaves.

These huts are always dark, blackened with smoke
and indescribably dirty; the smell of pigs rises through
the bamboo floor, and roosters awaken you at an
early hour. But the people are friendly, a circum-
stance which goes a long way to make up for any
other shortcomings.

The morning of 2nd September broke beautifully
fine, and the village of Laking, with its tall sago palms,
clumps of bamboo and slopes yellow with Indian corn,
looked a happy spot in the mellow sunshine; it was
warm down here too, the minimum falling only to
68° F. |

The village is built in two parts, the upper half
being several hundred feet above the lower. Far

1 See Chapter X.

2 In some parts the ‘maidens’ hearth”? is the frst room in the
hut next to the porch. The end room is often a store-room for
grain and liquor.

150 BY THE SINGING RIVER

below a twisting thread of white foam indicates the
Laking hka, and across the western sky, framed’
between bold spurs, stretches a range of forested
mountains, forming the watershed between the eastern
and western branches of the Irrawaddy.

The Marus of the Upper ’Nmai hka valley, being

more uncouth than those of the south, are distinguished —

as Naingvaws'; but they are none the less Marus.
The distinction is geographical, not racial.

Here the young girls wear girdles of cane consisting
of two or three strands on which are closely strung
white cowry shells, a picturesque ornament—for it
does not serve the purpose of a belt to hold up the
kirtle—marred only by a certain looseness and un-

tidiness; but some of the girls wore the Kachin belt, —

consisting of coils of fine black rattan cane, even
looser and more slovenly than the former. |

Often a cloak of native manufacture is thrown over
the head and hangs down behind, giving them a very
chic appearance. It reminds one of the towel thrown
over the head of a Malay girl, though the latter is
probably a half-hearted attempt at concession to
Mohammedan purda custom.

As is usual, the Marus down in the valley are better
dressed, live in bigger huts and are better off in all
respects than those higher up in the mountains.

1'The Marus call themselves Lawng vaw. Naingvaw may be a

local name, but is more likely an English corruption. The word
Maru is the Kachin name. (See Appendix II.)

CHAPTER X

AMONG THE MARUS

return to their homes, including my Maru

interpreter, who was useless, since he spoke no
language known to me. Two Yawyin porters from
the Ngawchang valley and five Lashis from Hpimaw
went with him, leaving only five of our original party,
including myself and T‘ung-ch‘ien.

It was late when we started with Maru porters,
men, women and girls, in place of those returning;
the latter crossed the river below, and started south
on their long tramp, but we went on down the valley
to the *"Nmai hka. They must have been back in
their snug huts, away in the Hpimaw hills, long before
we reached Fort Hertz.

The heat was now intense, and I was glad to halt
at midday and have a meal in the shade, and a shower-
bath under the splash of a cascade that poured into
a sandy pit surrounded by bushes. Some of the girls
did the same.

The Marus, when on the march, carry their day’s
ration of rice ready boiled and wrapped in a banana
leaf, so that they can squat down and eat it whenever
they feel inclined.

For the first time I made my terrier pup, named
Maru, in anticipation of his experiences in the Maru
country, follow on foot instead of being carried in

I5I

| Pee I paid off all the men who wished to

152 AMONG THE MARUS

state in a basket as hitherto, He kept up well, and
thoroughly enjoyed himself in the sunshine, finding
much to whet his canine curiosity along the roadside.

Watching him as he sniffed his way along, fre-
quently stopping to examine carefully an unknown
smell, I wondered how many new ones he found,
whether his knowledge was sufficient yet to enable
him to classify them, and what deductions were to sci
drawn therefrom.

In the afternoon we had a long pull upa well-made
but badly aligned path to the summit of a spur, from
which we looked right down into the 7Nmai valley,
though the river itself, some 2000 feet below us, was
invisible.

The last part of the ascent was very steep, and the
young men who reached the summit first threw down
their loads; but instead of resting they chivalrously
went back and relieved the girls and old men, who
had lagged behind, of their burdens. I think the
young Maru beaux must be very affectionate husbands,
or at any rate lovers; courtship with them is a fine
art.

As already remarked, the Marus are not over-
burdened with clothes, and during the heat of a
summer’s day they are reduced to a minimum.

The men wore only a short /one-gyi and stopped to
bathe in nearly every stream we came to. The married
women, who are distinguished by a sort of white
turban, like a dirty pudding-cloth after a suet dumpling
has been boiled in it, perched on top of the head,
never hesitated to take off their thin jackets, and the
girls sometimes did the same, though generally throwing

it over the shoulders to conceal the breasts. ‘The girls,

tery

Photo by] [A W. Porter, Esq.
MaARuU WOMEN POUNDING MAIZE.
Note the “striped hand-woven skirts. These are dyed dark blue and red.

Day
Y
bd

AMONG THE MARUS 153

however, always tucked their /one-gyi up to their knees
at least, in fact the garment is not much longer at its
full extent. They wear nothing on their heads, and
cut the hair in a fringe round the forehead, after the
manner of a Burmese sadouk, the rest of it being cut
short so as to form a mop.

The men also go about bareheaded in the sunshine,
but if going a day’s journey or more they often carry
a flat, broad-brimmed hat, like a plate, with a small
conical peak in the centre; the framework is of coarsely
plaited bamboo, with palm leaf woven into it, but it is
certainly not the equal in workmanship of the Yun-nan
muleteer’s finely woven bamboo hat.

Cloaks made of overlapping strips of palm leaf, ar-
ranged horizontally, or of fibrous cocoanut leaf sheaths,
threaded on a string and tied over the shoulders, are
also worn in wet weather.

Everyone goes about barefooted, and all, even the
children, smoke.

From the spur on which we stood we looked north-
wards across to the village of Tawlang, on another
lower spur, where we arrived at five-thirty. The valley
was fairly open here, rather bare of trees except in
the gullies, which were choked with jungle, generally
clothed with high grass and shrubs.

Tawlang, where Captain Pottinger’s party was
attacked and forced to return to Myitkyina in 1897,
is surrounded by a low stockade and looks a flourishing
village.

Between the Laking hka and the Mekh, the left
bank of the *Nmai is, comparatively speaking, well
populated, and there are large taungya of maize and
mountain rice, with walnut-trees, sago palms, big

154 AMONG THE MARUS

clumps of bamboo, and small crops of cotton, indigo,:
marrows, beans and buckwheat, fenced in amongst the
huts.

Just after our arrival the sky darkened and a brief
thunderstorm passed over the valley, travelling west,
but at seven o’clock there was a beautiful moonrise. At
eight the temperature was still 75° F. and the moon-
light brilliant, but two hours later another brief storm
passed over. |

It was difficult to sleep on such a bright night, nor
was the continuous whir, whir of cicadas soothing.
At short intervals the encircling mountains echoed to
the cries of small children who, perched up in little
huts on the steep taungya, watched the maize crops
under the glow of the full moon; suddenly there
would come a furious clap, clap as a string was pulled
and a bamboo rattle in a distant corner sent a frightened
monkey speeding back into the jungle.

September 3rd was another fine, hot day, the
minimum falling to 68-5° F. and the shade temperature
at eleven o’clock being just over 80° F.; at ten P.M. it
was still 74° F.

In point of distance we were barely three miles from
the next village, Ngawyaw, but the path led us up
over a spur, then down into a deep gully, and so up
to the summit of the next spur, high above and well
away from the still invisible 7*Nmai hka. The march
with halts took us five hours in the hottest part of the
day—for we started late, and it was a relief to bathe
in the torrent we crossed, where even the mountain
water felt quite warm.

In these enclosed valleys the day temperature falls very

1 Strobilanthes flaccidifoltus,

AMONG THE MARUS 155

slowly with increased altitude, at least to begin with;
we were over 3000 feet above sea-level at this time.

The mountains flanking the left bank of the ’Nmai
hka are of granite, with occasional outcrops of lime-
stone, as at Hpimaw; often, in the jungle especially,
the granite is decomposed to a sticky red clay. A
thick scrub covers the open slopes, and in the gullies
are purple-flowered Melastoma, orchids, ferns, huge-
leafed Alocasia and palms, with purple and sulphur-
yellow Chirita on the wet rocks, giving a more tropical
appearance to the vegetation. Magnificent butterflies
are seen everywhere, especially at elevations of from
2000 to 4000 feet.

That night there was a beautiful sunset and the
full moon rising over the black mountains and flooding
the gulf below us with orange light was superb.

Heavy rain in the early morning and the valley full
of cloud threatened a wet day on 4th September, but by
eight o’clock it was clearing up rapidly, and after mid-
day we had continuous sunshine. Nothing surprised
me so much as the fine weather experienced on our
march up the 7Nmai valley, from 31st August to 18th
September, during the worst of the rains to east and
west of us. A fair amount of rain fell, but it was
mostly in the form of brief squalls from the eastern
ranges, and generally fell either in the early morning
or in the evening. It was not like a ten days’ break,
which may come at any time, such as one experiences
in many parts of Burma during the monsoon, but
seemed to be the usual thing; excluding rain after
dark, we had no less than ten days without rain, a
relief after our experiences on the Wulaw Pass and at
Hpimaw.

156 AMONG THE MARUS

Our march on 4th September was again a short one,
though it took us five hours, thanks to the climbing up
and down, and the partiality of the Marus for bathing;
the girls, however, always stayed apart (and watched)
during these ablutions—you could hear them tittering
behind the bushes, and consequently I am bound to
confess, with pain, that the male sex were the cleaner.
I do not know why the girls were prudish about it;
they were not modest about taking off their jackets,
or tucking up their already abbreviated skirts, and the
men did not strip themselves.

However, it was very pleasant to have girl porters, —

for they were always merry and bright, kept the men
in a good temper and were not ill-favoured to look
upon,

Just outside the village of Ngawyaw were several
crude images of human beings carved out of short
wooden posts stuck in the ground. One of them was
most obscene. A similar obscenity was noticed much
later in a Kachin village far to the west, between
Fort Hertz and Myitkyina, where some conical-shaped
stones, probably of natural origin, and bearing some
resemblance to the human penis, had been stuck in the
ground at the entrance to the village. In the Maru
hut too the ends of the long beams which project into
the porch are finished off in a manner which might be
taken to represent the penis, while on the cross-beams
snakes and the head of some horned animal, whether
deer, goat or fabulous monster it is difficult to say, are
frequently carved. It would be interesting to know if
these things have any connection with the Bon religion
of Tibet, a system of phallic worship.

The most callow carving is also to be seen at the

AMONG THE MARUS 157

graves, which are curious. ‘The dead are burned, and
the ashes buried in a circular mound surrounded by
a trench two feet deep. Over the mound is raised a
conical, straw-thatched roof, and tall bamboo poles bear
aloft sign-boards on which are carved human figures,
birds, snakes eating each other, and heads with horns.

From the summit of the next spur we caught a
glimpse of the 7Nmai hka to the north, several thousand
feet below us, but this distant view gave us no idea of
its size. With its endless procession of precipitous
razor-backed spurs, divided by deep gullies filled with
rich vegetation, it closely resembles the valleys of
the Mekong and Salween in north-west Yun-nan—it
would be difficult to tell from a photograph which
was which, though the dryness of the Mekong valley
and consequent poverty of vegetation would be sufficient
to identify it.

A terrific descent brought us to a big torrent crossed
by a cane suspension bridge, and then came the usual
long climb up to the village.

Already three adventurous Marus, desiring to see
something of the world, had attached themselves per-
manently to our party, thus swelling our numbers to
eight. This was a great convenience, as it reduced the
number of porters to be commandeered daily to six or
eight, the number of loads having been reduced as our
stores rapidly diminished. This balance was made up
each morning from the village where we slept.

The Marus, or Naingvaws, as they are called here,
are short, sturdy and deep-chested, resembling Burmans
more closely than do the Kachins, though this may be
in part due to their dress.

They carry their loads by means of a strap passing

158 AMONG THE MARUS

over the forehead and not with a shoulder-board as do
the Lashis and Yawyins, a method probably learnt from
the Chinese, with whom these latter come in frequent
contact.

The complexion is a dark copper, the face round,
nose broad and flattened, eyes almond-shaped, hair short,
straight and black, usually tied in a knot on the top of
the head. |

They are cheerful companions, and if not very ener-
getic, are actually capable of great physical exertion
when put to the test, as we subsequently discovered.

That night the full moon rose partially eclipsed into
a clear sky and by eight o’clock the eclipse was almost
total; it was extraordinary to watch the glowing velvet
sky, in which formerly none but the most brilliant stars
had been visible, slowly turning black till stars of the
second and third magnitude shone out like lamps being
lit in a distant city, and the heavens sparkled with the ©
full splendour of a starlight night.

Meanwhile the villagers had become greatly excited,
believing that a devil was devouring the moon. A pro-
cession formed up, and paraded with gongs, which they
banged lustily, shouting as they circled round a barrel-
shaped drum on which a small boy operated as it lay
on the ground.

Finally the procession moved off through the village,
carrying the gongs above their heads and flapping their
arms to a sort of cake-walk, while a child not much
bigger than the tom-tom staggered along with that
instrument for another person to hammer.

After a time the efforts of these merry roysterers
were rewarded, the devil grew frightened and sicked
up the moon even as the whale did Jonah, and presently ~

AMONG THE MARUS 159

its silver rim reappeared, and by ten o’clock the ex-
. hausted band stood in the full flood of moonlight, their —
labours ended. As for me, I went to bed.

The whole performance was strongly reminiscent of
scenes in a Chinese village when a big dog swallows
the moon.

September 5.—Minimum 69°1° F. The day broke
gloomy and threatening after heavy rain in the morning.
Masses of cloud came boiling up from the gorge below,
but no more rain fell, though the sky remained overcast
and the atmosphere was sultry.

After crossing one spur, from which the 7Nmai was
visible, we reached a village of a few huts on the
summit of the next, where the porters suggested
stopping the night.

However, as the Mekh rame? was visible just below
us, and-beyond that, over a low spur, the 7Nmai hka, I
was anxious to push on, feeling that substantial pro-
gress would have been made once we were across that
river; a dim realisation of the task we had set ourselves
was beginning to dawn on me, and I foresaw a shortage
of food in the near future. The four weeks’ march for
which I had prepared would be up in another four days,
and we were barely half-way yet!

I had abandoned all thought of crossing the 7Nmai
hka and thence proceeding through the “triangle”
(the country enclosed between the Mali hka and the
’Nmai hka) to the Hkamti Long road—indeed I could
get no certain information of a bridge over the ?Nmai,
except one which was said to be destroyed.

There probably are routes westwards from the ’Nmai

1 Rame is a Kachin word for river or stream, Ha means a big
river, Zup means a small stream.

160 AMONG THE MARUS

valley, however, for the “triangle ” is said to be thickly

populated; but the absence of villages on the right

bank of the river is curious. ‘The mountains on that
side seem to dip even more steeply into the water than
they do on the left bank. |

Another reason why I wished to get across the Mekh
now was because there did not appear to be enough
porters in this village to supply our wants, and our
present lot would be sure to sneak off and leave us
stranded; whereas, could I once get them across the
river, we might persuade them to go on to the next
village.

So we started off, and a dreadful descent of over
2000 feet down a slippery path—for the granite had de-
composed to a sticky clay—brought us at last to the
Mekh rame; after that the going got worse and worse.

The Mekh, up which we proceeded for half-a-mile
from near its confluence with the *Nmai hka, by a most
difficult, rocky path, is a brawling river, here about fifty
yards wide, crossed by a cane suspension bridge sixty
yards in length and at least fifty feet above the water.
Just before entering the 7Nmai it bends to the north,
and has cut its way in a half-moon through the. enclos-
ing wall of the latter, so that for the last part of its
course it flows in a deep gorge, precipitous cliffs rising
on either side, that on the right bank forming a narrow
wall between the two rivers; and having crossed the
bridge—a matter of giddy difficulty, for it swayed from
side to side at every step; the men as usual gallantly
carrying the girls’ loads across for them—it was up this
rock wall we had to climb.

Along either bank of the Mekh the path was

difficult, as we had to clamber up and down precipices,

SB, ee eg ee

AMONG THE MARUS 16a

along rock ledges and slippery logs, and over boulders,
‘so that Maru, who so far had followed very well, had
to be carried most of the way.

From the river bed we hauled ourselves up the
face of the cliff by means of roots and creepers—how
the porters did it with their loads I don’t know to
this day, but it is a fact that had they not carried
them by means of a head-strap, leaving both hands
free, the feat would have been impossible.

Once on the edge of the wall-like spur, matters
became easier, though the path was still very steep.

It was curious to hear first one river and then the
other as the path turned to this or that side of the spur
between the two, first the deep boom of the ?Nmai
hka like a mastiff growling, followed by the shrill
rattle of the Mekh as the path crossed to the other
side. From high up on the spur, which was well
wooded, we looked down between the trees on to the
’Nmai hka, a cataract of foam it appeared, nearly as
big as the Mekong, and then we plunged once more
into the forest.

Evening now came on, and the Marus informed me
that it was impossible to reach the next village that
night, and that we should have to camp in the forest;
but presently one of them remembered a fresh hill
clearing and hut on the steep slope to the right, and
down we plunged towards the Mekh again in search
of it.

Stumbling and tripping over tree trunks in the
darkness, we were soon aware of the clearing, and
presently found the hut, a poor little shanty standing
by itself in this lonely wilderness, whereupon my
personal servants commandeered it for me and them-

162 AMONG THE MARUS

selves, turning the inmates and the other porters out
into the jungle for the night. Even so, there was
no room to put up my camp cot, and I slept on the
floor; but we had been nine hours on the march
and I could have slept standing.

Next morning when we came to apportion the loads
we found that what I had feared had indeed come
to pass—several of the porters had decamped at dawn. .
We should have been in rather a fix if it had not
been for a party of young men from the village above
turning up unexpectedly and offering to go back with
us. So regaining the path along the ridge crest, we
went our way rejoicing.

Picture us, then, still toilmg up the granite spur
in the angle between the two rivers, the powerful
’Nmai hka and the agile Mekh rame, till never an
echo of all that tumult below floated up to us.

Sometimes we were in the shade of the forest,
where mosquitoes and red ants worried us, sometimes
in the open, where gorgeous butterflies sported in the
glaring sunshine, till at last we reached a bare shoulder
of the hill-side and bore away eastwards up the Mekh
valley, though that river was no longer visible.

Three hours’ steady climbing up the precipitous
ridge and an hour in the sunshine during the hottest
part of the day had aroused in me a lively thirst,
but this brown, roasting, rocky mountain-side, broken
by bare granite scraps and tors to which clung a few ©
gnarled pines and thorny bushes, looked as dry as a
desert; it was therefore a great and unexpected relief
when presently we came to a spring of clear, cold
water gushing from the cliff 2000 feet above the
river. It was, in fact, the village well, and here we

AMONG THE MARUS 163

slaked our thirst and rested awhile before going on to
_ the village nearly half-a-mile away.

A descent of some hundreds of feet down a villainous
granite stairway, partly artificial but mostly natural,
brought us to a small platform on which were perched
five huts standing’ at various angles to each other, and
here we halted for the day, though it was but two
o'clock. Two hours later, almost without warning,
a terrific storm, with lightning and thunder, swept
across the valley, driven by a gale of wind, the leaves
being whirled aloft; but in an hour it was quite still
again.

I was allotted the far end of the hut, my bed, table
and chair being put up in the passage by a small door
which admitted light and air and opened on to a
narrow platform overlooking the pig preserves and a
fowl run and a rank growth of pumpkins, tobacco
and buckwheat, all mixed up higgledy-piggledy.

Next to me was the “maidens? room,” that
convivial hearth set apart for the unmarried, where
the wise virgins await the coming of the _bride-
groom, with stoups of liquor and flowers and pretty
speeches. 7

And here, with no light but the red embers of
the fire, and the moon rising over the black mountains,
when all the household is asleep, and the noises of
the village are stilled save for the restless movements
of the tireless cattle and the occasional grunt of a
pig under the hut, the youth whispers to the maid
the same old story—only it is not always the same
youth. |

She does not know, and hangs her head.

Yes, she likes him, but she also likes the youth

164 AMONG THE MARUS

from Bum-pat, in the far valley, who sometimes comes

to see her. |
Last time he brought her very many /an ka* which

he had made himself; and he was handsome and

reputed the best crossbow shot in his village; but

she fears he is also making love to Ayawng, the

duwa’s” beautiful daughter, and is jealous.

Besides, this new lover of hers, Wakyetwa by name,
has more mithan than his rival, and he has a blood-
feud against Shippawn, by whom his sister has borne
a son, though he now refuses to marry her, preferring
to settle in kind; he, Wakyetwa, will get more mithan
for this, and a gong and a dah,

So Wakyetwa is encouraged to come again the -

next night, and before he leaves, she shyly gives him
a crimson flower of coxcomb which she has plucked
from her taungya.

It is communism. One often hears it said glibly
enough, and not without astonishment implied, that
the system of free love in vogue amongst unmarried
Kachins—courting carried to its logical conclusion I
should call it—guarantees a happy and lasting married
life later; adultery, in fact, is practically unknown
amongst the Kachins, it is said. Maybe this is advanced
in mitigation rather than in praise of the system, but
there is always a suspicion that the unexpected dis-
covery of, after all, some good in a custom, which

at first sight shocks the sensitive mind, may cause a

reaction entirely in its favour; an apology, in fact,
becomes a defence.

1 Lan ka, the rattan rings worn by the Kachin tribes round the
calf.

2 Duwa, village headman.

AMONG THE MARUS 165

I merely point out the danger—let it not be thought
for a moment that I condemn the custom, or wish to
preach ‘a moral homily; though its general application
to European society would not, I fear, at this stage
of evolution, achieve a similar end. On the other
hand, a not dissimilar custom has long been prevalent
in the back blocks of mountainous Europe.

Of course it all depends on ideals.

I dare say lots of people, asking no questions, really
are satisfied with fidelity after marriage; but, on the
other hand, very many stipulate for purity before,
though indifferent as to what happens afterwards.
Some even expect purity before marriage and fidelity
after it.

However, they are not Marus.

The people of this village brought me a Digi
harvest mouse’ and a baby monkey, for which I gave a
rupee and some beads.

The monkey, a pig-tailed baboon, was the oddest little
chap, his tiny face crumpled like a petal in bud, giving
him an appearance of wrinkled age, though he was
unweaned and his weakness, his childish clutchings, and
his piteous cries for his mother, dead or wounded in
the jungle, betrayed his tender age. I kept him for
two days, forcibly feeding him on well-chewed sugar-
cane or corn, copiously emulsified with saliva, and then
the newly lit flame of his little life flickered and went
out in the night.

So the hot afternoon passed away, and at sunset I
noticed flashes of lightning far away in the south-west,
where clouds had gathered, though the wind was still
from the east. The weather changes very suddenly in

1 Pachyura sp.

166 AMONG THE MARUS

these mountains, however, and bright moonlight at ten
o’clock was replaced by heavy rain in the early morn-
ing, the temperature falling to 67°5° F. At six a.m. the
valley was filled with mist, which was rapidly dissipated
by the sun two hours later.

CHAPTER XI

THE LONG TRAIL

ESCENDING about a thousand feet to the
1) Mekh by the usual precipitous path, now
slippery with mud, we halted for a bathe, the
sun being already strong. A couple of twists in the river,
with big noisy rapids above and below, caused almost
slack water here under the right bank, and casting off
their one garment apiece, most of my men plunged into
the water. |

The Marus are fond of swimming, though I saw
no experts, a somewhat feeble breast stroke being the
only mode of propulsion. Consequently no bold spirit
- came forward to swim the river, here some thirty or
forty yards in breadth, crossing the swift current,
which, under the opposite bank, hastened faster and
faster towards the rapids, to be finally sucked frothing
and protesting between big boulders. Neither have
they any idea of diving, my efforts in that direction,
from the top of a granite boulder, causing astonishment
almost to the point of attempted emulation.

For half-an-hour the air was filled with the sounds
of laughter and splashing, the Marus ducking each
other like schoolboys, and chasing over the hot sand,
or sunning themselves on the rocks.

Our march now led us up the river bed, clambering
over immense boulders or leaping from one to the other,
the river a tumultuous torrent of battered, seething

167

168 THE LONG TRAIL

water, till presently we reached a cane suspension
bridge. Here we met two Lisus from the hills, one of
whom carried a small pig in a basket.

The Marus live in the valley of the 7Nmai hka and
in the lower parts of the tributary valleys, particularly
those of the Laking hka, Mekh rame and Namre rame;
the Lisus occupy the hills and the upper valleys between
the ’Nmai hka and the Salween valley, as well as the
Salween valley itself, from where they extend into the
Chinese provinces of Yun-nan and Ssu-ch‘uan, though
their distribution is discontinuous, They are not found
west of the 7Nmai kha or north of lat. 28°.

Their villages are on an average perhaps 2000 feet
above those of the Marus, and as their crops ripen a
month or two later, they come down into the warmer
valleys about this time for food, bringing potatoes, salt,
pigs, cows and iron pots in exchange. Most of these
things they themselves have obtained from the Chinese,
who rarely penetrate into this part of the country.
From these men I bought a few new potatoes the size
of small marbles.

Presently we came upon a remarkable sight.

Some carnivorous animal had left its droppings in ©
a rock pool amongst the boulders, and the poisoned
water had tainted the atmosphere for yards around
with its rank acridness. From all directions this
reeking cesspool had attracted the most gorgeous
butterflies imaginable, and they had come in their
dozens. The pool was a quivering mass of brilliant
insects, and still others hovered to and fro over the
unsavoury meal, awaiting their turn to alight; from
time to time a butterfly, impatient of waiting, would
push itself amongst the already packed multitude,

Photo by] iP, M. R. Leonard, Esq.
YounGc NUNGS.

The boy on the right holds a four-foot span cross-bow. The other two have each
their dah, or short knife. They are not blessed with abundant clothing.

yy
oy
at
hy bes -
Ys
°
'
Z
oa a7
‘
4

THE LONG TRAIL 169

causing a flutter of painted wings as the group re-
arranged itself like the colours in a kaleidoscope. Is —
it not curious that such beautiful, delicate, and out-
wardly dainty creatures should be attracted by such
loathsomeness? It is apt to start a cynical train of
thought on the corruption which underlies all material
beauty and the empty vanities of life.

But it was while watching, fascinated, these heaven-
born insects that for the first time I realised the full
magic beauty of Mendelssohn’s Papillon, which ran in
my head even as I watched the oscillating wings at the
butterfly meet.

Amongst them were many swallow-tails of the
genus Dalchina, with schooner wings banded with
pale green. When the insect settles the wings are
folded and in profile resemble the sails of a
schooner. 2

Butterflies, it may be noticed, when they alight
do not all behave similarly; just as their flights differ,
this one darting in rapid zigzags high up in the air,
that one flapping sedately along on broad wings, a
third swooping swiftly from flower to flower, so too
some close their wings the moment they settle, while
others spread them.

Amongst the former the most famous is no doubt
the leaf-butterfly,1 of which I saw one lovely specimen
in the 7Nmai valley. Settled on a twig, it was impossible
without close scrutiny to distinguish this insect from
an asymmetrical leaf, like that of the lime-tree, which
the folded wings resembled in shape, markings being
readily mistaken for venation, the head tucked away,
the body representing the stalk.

1 Kalla sp.

170 THE LONG TRAIL

In spite of its strong flight and protective mimicry,
this butterfly is far from common here; at least it is
rarely seen. |

Another butterfly! which at once folds up its wings
on alighting is one the under side of whose wings
are veined and mottled like certain kinds of rock,
as, for instance, limestone with quartz veins, or schist
(species of Cyrestis).

The duller butterflies of the forest, however, the
sombre but none the less pretty browns and greys,
generally alight with outspread wings, though some
open and close them alternately, as though stretching
themselves.

Most lovely of all are the swallow-tails, of which
there are a considerable variety in the hot, sunny
valleys. These, as they probe the flowers for honey,
scarcely settle, or if they do, touch with so light a
caress the damask petals that they seem poised on
air; and as they hover over, or tread with fairy
pressure the bell-like convolvulus and trumpet flowers,
their wings quiver and tremble like aspen leaves
shivering in a zephyr breeze, never still for a moment,
One of the most beautiful of these was a species of
Leptocircus, with gauzy wings trailing out behind like
fluttering ribands. How full of life they look, what
restless energy in those slender bodies borne aloft on
gorgeous wings! and how exquisitely the first move-
ment of Papillon represents to our ears the quiver-
ing, restless vitality here seen with the eyes ! This
music will ever carry me back to the Burmese hinter-
land, where I shall see again that rancid pool with
its burden of butterflies by the thundering Mekh!

1 Cyrestis sp.

THE LONG TRAIL 171

On the wet rocks beneath the shadow of the high
river bank pink and white begonias with mottled,
velvety leaves were plentiful. Never was such a
country for begonias! Indeed the shy vegetation
hidden away in the forests on these damp cliffs,
between 5000 and 8000 feet elevation, was remarkable
for the beauty of its flowers and foliage, amongst
which begonias, species of Impatiens and Chirita,
maiden-hair ferns, Colocasia and Selaginella are the
most noticeable.

One does not travel even over the comparatively
level river beds in this country for long. We had
descended 1000 feet from the last village, and
we now had to climb 2000 feet to the next one.
Ascents and descents, which in some places include
climbing whereby one holds on to convenient rocks
and tree roots, sometimes even to rattan canes in-
securely fastened from one tree to another, in order
to pull oneself up, are at the best by scarcely zigzag
paths as steep as the pitch of a house roof. Every
obstacle is surmounted by frontal attack; there are
no carefully sought out alignments nor elaborately
graded approaches; one cannot follow with the eye
the road winding in and out round the gullies as one
does the mule-roads in'the hill tracts of Upper Burma.

However, as you plod wearily up, the porters toiling
along behind, halting for breath at frequent intervals,
you feel that at every step you are getting up—
mountain ranges come rapidly into view again, far-
away peaks poke up their heads beyond, the valley
grows blue in the distance. One performs prodigies
of accumulated climbing in a day, though you may
finish at a lower altitude than that at which you

172 THE LONG TRAIL

started, and anyhow the net result may be only a few
miles gained.

Nor is the path always safe, being indeed no
broader when cut out of the.cliff side or spanning
a ravine than when traversing a level stretch of
jungle. |

Two or three logs of questionable strength, carefully
concealed by earth, served as a footpath round an
awkward corner in one place, and stepping confidently
on the edge, it crumbled away without warning,
precipitating me over the khud. Hence the phrase
“As easy as falling off a log,” no doubt first said in
a country where logs are used as inconsequently as
they are here. Luckily as I fell 1 was able to clutch
the timber with both hands, and being further some-
what violently arrested in my projected course by a
tree trunk below, I escaped with nothing more serious
than a bruised leg and a severe shaking, being rescued
from my perilous position, suspended over the pre-
cipice, and hauled up on to the path again by the
porters behind.

Maru had followed us on foot ever since we left
Laking, though he still had to be carried whenever
we encountered a precipice or crossed a torrent.
Now that he had learnt to wag his tail when pleased,
hang his head when depressed by a guilty conscience,
grovel on his belly when I called him to task, skip
about excitedly at meal-time and give way to other
expressions of canine emotion, all of which seem to
have come naturally to him by degrees, since his
mother was far away in the fort at Hpimaw, he was
a delightful if silent companion. He made friends
with the baby monkey at once, though I am not sure

THE LONG TRAIL ye

that the trust was reciprocated, or the affection
returned. |

The monkey, of course, was carried in a basket, as
Maru had previously been. He was difficult to feed,
because he would insist that my finger was a nipple,
at which he sucked and chewed with his tiny milk-
teeth all to no purpose, while my own mouth grew
as dry as lava masticating and predigesting his meal
of rice or sugar-cane to pulp before pushing the
salivary bolus into his little red mouth. The ex-
pression on his crumpled face, which was not dissimilar
to that of a new-born baby, as he looked at me with
large, puzzled eyes, saying in eloquent silence, “Surely
you are not my mother!” was sad, as though antici-
pating the end.

That night was spent at a village of six or eight
huts hemmed in between gigantic forested spurs, and
backed by the ridge above, which towered up for
two or three thousand feet. When I turned in the
moonlight flooding the dim Mekh valley immediately
below and silvering the trees promised fine weather
for the morrow.

Well protected by vegetation on every hand, the
minimum fell only to 67°8° F., though we were quite
4000 feet above sea-level.

Next day, 8th September, we climbed steeply for
three hours, pushing our way through thickets and
brushing aside the long, dewy grass which concealed
the path, here bordered by masses of purple-flowered
Torenia.*

At last, passing through a belt of forest trees, we
reached\ the open, wind-swept summit, forming the

1 T. peduncularis.

174 THE LONG TRAIL

northern boundary of the Mekh basin, where there
were no trees, but only dense thickets of rhododendron
and other shrubs. As usual, the rock was granite.

In spite of a cloudy sky, we had a fine view of the
Salween divide away to the E.N.E., from the crest
of which this convulsion of crumpled mountains and
twisted valleys stretches westwards to the 7Nmai hka,
while eastwards, in amazing contrast, bold spurs dip
straight down into the deep Salween which iiice
against their feet. .

Southwards we could see far down the 7Nmai valley,
but here and there the mountains were blotted out in
storm, and the rumble of thunder in the north sounded
ominous.

A long and steep descent through jungle brought
us at length to a little cultivation, and traversing some
taungya where millet and buckwheat struggled man-
fully with the weeds, we reached a‘ village of five
huts, and halted for a meal to let a storm go past.
On the opposite slope, separated from us by a valley
across which a bird would have winged its way in
a few minutes, stood a second larger village. This
we reached at five o’clock, by the more prosaic method
of walking down one side and up the other.

Here the porters very naturally wished to halt,
saying that we could not reach the next village before
dark; but remembering how comparatively frequent
villages had been between the Laking and the Mekh,
and the indisposition of the Marus to exert themselves
unnecessarily, I scouted the suggestion and persuaded
them to go on to the next village. I felt confident
we could reach it by nightfall, with an effort.

I was indeed becoming uneasy at the slow progress

THE LONG TRAIL ty a

we were making, being already several days late on
the scheduled programme worked out before starting ;
consequently I resolved to speed up our rate of march-
ing at every possible opportunity.

However, I had better have been guided by those
who knew something of the country and the ways
of its inhabitants. The two attempts I made both
failed dismally in their object, and after that I gave
it up in disgust, though no doubt they sufficed to
keep clearly before the minds of our party the grave
fact that no unnecessary delay could be tolerated.

True, each time I cajoled the men into speeding
up we covered more than the usual march the first
day; but it only meant that we had less than the
usual march to do the next day, and arrived exactly
where we would have arrived had there been no
speeding up. No amount of cajolery would make
the men do three marches in two days, and in fact
it was impossible, so long as we had to change porters
at all; for if we arrived at a village in the middle
of the day and the men dumped down their loads
and refused to go on, there we had to stop till next
morning. |

There was no one at home in the village to take
up the loads, only a few old women weaving cloth,
decrepit men smoking and tiny children playing in
the hearth; the rest of the inhabitants were up the
mountain minding their crops, or hunting in the jungle,
and would not appear till dusk. A very jolly open-
air life!

There were points about the speeding-up system—
for instance, it was pleasant to have a whole afternoon’s
rest sometimes; it gave me an opportunity to look

176 THE LONG TRAIL

after my plant collection and see something of Maru —

village life. But it never shortened by a single hour
the journey to Fort Hertz.

North of the Mekh villages are few and far
between. The bed of the *Nmai hka becomes more
and more confined, and though spurs are more numerous
between the Mekh and the Ahkyang than they are
between the Laking and the Mekh, they are also
much steeper, much more rocky, and hence much more
difficult to cultivate. Flat shoulders too, on which
alone villages can be built, seldom break the curve
of a granite spur as it sweeps down from the moun-
tains above the river, separating one gully from the
next. We toiled over an endless succession of these
huge spurs; no sooner had we surmounted one, climb-
ing from the stream 1500 or 2000 feet, in jungle,
over cliffs, along ledges, through grass which buried
us, than we had to begin the descent to the next
torrent, and were very glad to halt and bathe when
we got there. |

Though the sky was still clear behind us in the
south, it had clouded over from the east, so that
there was no prospect of moonlight to assist us.

At dusk we stood on the brink of a deep chasm,
and before the rearguard had reached the summit of
the next spur, after a weary climb, it was quite dark.
However, we could hear dogs barking, and occasionally
through the trees. see lights moving in the village
ahead, which the advance guard had evidently reached,
so that, as the crow, or even the careless butterfly,

more typical of this country, flies, it could not be far - f

away.

We ourselves, unfortunately, being neither crows —

THE LONG. TRAIL 177

nor careless butterflies, had to walk, and found the
distance correspondingly more formidable.

As for the porters and T*ung-ch‘ien, they hardly
dared move for fear of falling, but an occasional fall
seemed to me preferable to a night spent on the
mountain-side, especially as rain threatened, so I pushed
warily ahead. Though it was impossible to see the
path, pale flashes of lightning revealed from time
to time the contours of the land, from which the
_ probable direction of the winding path, here buried in
long grass, there concealed amongst rocks, might be
gauged.

In this manner I groped my way along, carrying
Maru, for half-a-mile, shouting at intervals as a light
waxed and waned somewhere ahead, till suddenly,
without any preliminary warning, I rolled six feet
down the khud, losing the path altogether, and decided
to stay where I was lest worse befell.

As I sat disconsolately spitting pebbles out of my
mouth and combing the grit out of my hair there
at last appeared round the corner a man carrying
in his hand a flaring torch, which revealed the fact
that I was sitting on the edge of a cliff, descended
by the aid of a notched log; I could hardly have
continued the abrupt descent beyond this point without
breaking some arms and legs !

The new-comer, after holding his torch aloft to
light me down the cliff and indicate the path ahead,
now went back to where the porters had resigned,
while I approached another light. Presently I reached
not indeed the village, but a small mat hut on the
slope above us, where the maize is stacked when
ripe and people pass the night watching the crops

178 THE LONG TRAIL

when the monkeys come down to claim their
share.

Inside the hut, which was small and draughty,
I found several of the porters with my bedding, but
no food. The men had lit a fire and we soon made
ourselves cosy on the hard ground, roasting some
maize cobs in the embers for supper, there being
eleven of us altogether when the laggards arrived
just as it began to rain heavily; so several must
have reached the village.

During the night it rained almost continuously, —
and next morning the monkey was dead; perhaps
this was due to cold, the temperature falling to
65°9° F.; in fact it was the chill, moist air filtering
through the flimsy walls which woke me before six
in the dawn dusk.

Having nothing to eat, we wasted no time in packing
and setting out for the village, reached it in half-an-
hour, where the rest of our party met us with a
suspicion of feigned surprise and a fleeting smile of
superiority grossly irritating.

Near the village I was surprised to find the path
cleared and levelled, the grass cut, the banks trimmed,
first aid rendered to the water supply, and other
signs of Hodge; a Maru headman who keeps even |
two hundred yards of inter-village track in repair
on the upper ’Nmai hka is a treasure indeed, and
deserves to be encouraged by Government. In the
rainy season these inter-village tracks are hardly used
at all, and soon become almost obliterated by the
vegetation.

We now had breakfast in the house of the headman,
a tall, robust, aristocratic-looking Maru dressed like —

THE LONG TRAIL 179

a Burman, with in-gyi and silk hkoung-boung in addition
to his /one-gyi; in fact one might have taken him for
a Burman in any other setting.

After collecting a fresh lot of porters we started
off again, the weather being cool and cloudy; now
we looked down on a deep valley full of mist diffusing
itself raggedly heavenwards as it tried to rise into the
already saturated air above.

As previously stated, we gained nothing by our
_ forced march except an afternoon’s respite from toil
now; we only reached the next village half-a-day
earlier, and had to stop there.

The Marus, unlike the Yawyins, do not care to
travel far from their homes, and generally object
to going beyond the next village.

Asked for information about the road three or
four marches ahead, they can tell you nothing except
in the vaguest terms, so that when the villages are
close together progress is necessarily slow, porters
being changed at every village and, for the reasons |
given above, a change being impossible except in the
early morning. |

Yet every morning you may see the young men
of the village saunter out with dab, crossbow and
arrow-bag of black bear skin to hunt in the jungle
and pass the day smoking, chewing pan and talking
idly; while the women and children do the work
in the fields and in the house, making food and
clothes for all.

I was very lucky to have got ten porters, including
five Marus, to go with me the whole way to Fort
Hertz, otherwise I should never have got there
without jettisoning half my loads, since these villages

180 THE LONG TRAIL

north of Mekh could not have furnished the requisite
number of porters.

This prejudice against travelling far from their
homes seems to be characteristic of people whose
lives are spent in the jungle, whose vision is cir-
cumscribed by impenetrable vegetation in the midst
of which lurk all those evil spirits, here called zats,
bred of an imagination unfettered by knowledge.

The mountain peoples, the men who reach the
passes and meadows above the forest, in contrast
to these others, travel far and wide, fearing nothing.
They are the people who emigrate, and emigrating,
come into contact with new civilisations; they are the
people who eventually shoulder their way into the fair
places of the earth. agits

Such are the Yawyins. Such too are the peoples
of the wide, windy plateaux of Tibet, great travellers
all, nomads some. ‘Their horizon is bounded only by
the limits of human vision, and a vast curiosity assails
them as they stand beneath the blue dome of heaven
and look across the mountains; nothing stands be-
tween them and far lands but these same mountains
that they know so well—why then should they not
go to those dim distances, strange and full of unknown
things, but not mysterious, not exciting unbridled
imagination !

So even when they desert the wide, windy pastures
and take to agriculture in the warm valleys, they
lose not their love of nomadic life, but become great
traders, venturing far afield in search of what they
need in their newly settled homes.

And such, too, are the children of the desert, on

whom the stars twinkle at night with an unearthly —

THE LONG TRAIL 181

brilliance, and the rising and setting sun slants its
rays over vast, bare spaces.

A steep ascent now brought us out on to a narrow
granite ridge bare of trees, from which we had a fine
view down the ’Nmai valley, the river itself being
visible far below.

The ridge fell away to the next stream in a pre-
cipitous spur running parallel to the 7Nmai hka, and
we found ourselves walking along a knife-edge, the
summit of which was formed by a jumble of granite
tors; so we turned back into the mountains to avoid
it, immediatély descending the east flank of the spur
by a steep, zigzag path, sticky with red clay and
very slippery.

No sooner were we on the inner face of the spur,
behind the main river, than we plunged into thick
jungle again, the high, precipitous banks loaded with
the usual maiden-hair ferns, yellow and blue flowered
Chirita, Selaginella and brilliant Impatiens.

Just before crossing the spur I noticed a tumultuous
movement of the clouds, a fantastically fringed black
plume sailing over from the west and, as soon as it
reached the river, sending forth vivid tongues of
lightning.

This evil-looking cloud banner now performed some
extraordinary gyrations with the lower clouds which
already brooded over the valley, a sort of cloud-spout or
water-spout, anyhow a funnel-shaped object being formed.
in mid-air by the rubbing of opposing air currents; and
next minute to the roar of thunder and a blast of air
out of the sky as it seemed a deluge of rain fell,
the storm lasting two hours.

Consequently our descent down the clay path was

182 THE LONG TRATL

more hasty than dignified, and by the time we had
crossed the torrent and climbed the opposite slope
to a village perched a few hundred feet above we
were all drenched to the skin and caked with mud.

However, in the afternoon every vestige of cloud
disappeared, the sun shone out, and the temperature
went up with a bound, reaching 831° F. in the
shade.

I spent the afternoon skinning the dead monkey
and looking over my accumulating collection of plants,
not sorry for a rest.

I also bought another pig-tailed baboon fsa the
villagers, in exchange for some beads. He was older
than the last one, and only took to me very gradually
—indeed it was several days before he could bear to —
look at me without facially expressing his displeasure,
though he was soon smiling at the natives. |

This village was like many others—half-a-dozen
rather poor huts scattered on the hill-side amongst
patches of cultivation and little fenced-in gardens of
Capsicum, pumpkins, yams, and tobacco.

CHAPTER XII

AMONG THE LISUS

65°2° F. after a good deal of rain in the small hours.

The start was delayed owing to the fact

that the path had been washed away and it was

necessary for men with dahs to precede us and effect

what repairs they could; vegetation had to be cleared,

saplings cut, bridges thrown across gullies and brackets

built round cliffs before we could get out of the
cul-de-sac we had entered the previous day.

It was one of the most difficult marches we had
yet experienced. _ Numerous notched logs and rickety
bamboo ladders had to be negotiated, leeches worried
us, and, as the day was hot, I was thankful when
at four o’clock we reached a small village high
above the river, amongst patches of cotton and
taungya of ripening maize. Here we halted for the
night.

This place commanded a good view of the ?Nmai
hka to the north, which was the more welcome as,
in spite of our continuous proximity to it, we rarely
caught even a glimpse of this elusive river. At no
time during our march north did we descend to its
banks till we finally crossed it on 13th September,
though in crossing both the Mekh and the Ahkyang
we were only a little way above the junction of those
rivers with it.

183

Ag PTEMBER 1oth.— Minimum temperature

184. AMONG THE LISUS

At nightfall a white mist softly filled the valley
and wrapped everything below in slumber; only our
heads were amongst the brilliant stars.

September 11th,—Minimum 63°8° F. The valley was
still full of cloud at six o’clock, but there was blue
sky overhead. Heavy dew gave an autumnal bite
to the air, but as soon as the sun was up the mists
disappeared and another fine day followed, the sweat
bubbling out of us as we climbed up and down, rarely
finding shelter from the sun’s rays.

At the start we had a very deep gully to cross,
the opposite ascent being exceptionally difficult. Then
followed the long descent to the Namre rame, which
valley may be considered, for this part of the world,
thickly populated.

After crossing the stream by a cane suspension
bridge we again ascended steeply, and passed through
two small villages before halting at a larger one
near the summit of the spur. Just across the valley,
which was open, with cultivated slopes, on the left
bank of the stream, two more villages were visible,
and there were others higher up the valley out of
view. |

Five villages in view at once, say forty or fifty
huts with perhaps four or five hundred people! We
had seen nothing like it since leaving the Mekh!

When we arrived at the Namre rame we found
between thirty and forty villagers, men, women and
children, engaged in a fish drive. This operation
consists in damming and diverting the torrent and
securing any fish unlucky enough to be left behind
in the pools and channels below, which are gradually
half drained. . \

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AMONG THE LISUS 185

Here, just above its junction with the *Nmai hka,
the Namre rame is a boisterous torrent, tearing
amongst huge blocks of granite. At one point,
where the water poured over a boulder into a deep
pool, a dam had been built across the stream and
the water confined to a single lateral channel, the
crevices through which it might find its way beneath
and between the boulders having been plugged with
banana stems and a pulp made from the sheaths of
sago palm leaves.

Thus for fifty yards or so down-stream there were
only a few trickles and quiet pools of water lost
amongst a wilderness of enormous boulders, glistening
white in the sunshine.

It was difficult work scrambling about here in the
torrent bed where the tumbling water had worn
deep chasms and polished the sheer-sided boulders.

Sitting or lying full length on these slabs, or
lowering each other down into the pools, the Marus
swept the hushed waters with conical bamboo sieves
on poles, or turned over stones and grabbed, putting
any fish they caught in baskets. I saw several taken,
but the biggest was not more than seven or eight
inches long, though every capture was hailed with a
universal shout of applause.

The higher we travelled up the ’Nmai hka the
uglier became the Marus.

The small children go about naked, and are always
filthy. They have the usual pot-bellies and thin flanks
of Eastern children, making them look as though they
were in a perpetual state of unstable equilibrium, and
trying to correct it by running faster than they were
meant to.

186 AMONG THE LISUS

September 12th.—Minimum 64°4° F. The sky at
daybreak was perfectly clear and we got off soon after
nine, climbing steeply to the summit of the spur which
divides the Namre rame from the 7Nmai hka, and
following its broken crest some distance up the valley;
below us, on the Namre rame side, were scattered
villages and cultivated slopes, but luckily (for as usual
it was very hot in the sun) the crest of the ridge was
more or less covered with forest.

On beginning to descend again we presently found
ourselves, to my surprise, on quite a good path—not
well graded, of course, for in several places it descended
by abrupt steps down which one lightly leapt, but
fairly broad, and cleared of undergrowth; evidently
it had only recently been repaired.

This path took us down quite 2000 feet through
forests in which I noticed two species of tree fern,
and a species of oak with enormous acorns in squat
cups, to a torrent where we halted for our usual daily
bathe. In diving into a shallow pool here I had the
misfortune to hit the bottom rather hard, cutting my
head and chest on the sharp rocks.

A short climb up the opposite spur soon brought us
to a village insecurely perched in an.exposed position
on the hill-side, where some slabs of slaty rock stood
on edge like low walls; one hut was built close to
the brink of a small scarp formed by one of these
outcrops. To the west the mountains, in the form
of a small horseshoe-shaped bay, stood up very steep
and menacing, as it seemed.

Since four-thirty p.m. I had noticed an occasional
growl of thunder, and when I looked out of our hut
at six-thirty the wind was rising; before eight it was

AMONG THE LISUS 187

raining, a strong wind was blowing and frequent flashes
of lightning illuminated the dark sky; evidently it was -
working up for a storm.

Quite suddenly it burst upon us with awful fury,
the wind blowing with hurricane force. Now the
lightning blazed incessantly, flash following flash with
such rapidity that we could see everything—bending
trees, whirling leaves, and the dark outline of brooding
mountains; and to the continuous roll of thunder,
like heavy artillery, was added the shriller rattle of
drenching rain as it beat viciously on the stiff palm
leaves.

The storm simply crashed down on to the village
from the mountains, as though someone was tipping
barrels full of water and compressed air on top
of us.

Water poured through the thatch roof of our hut,
bringing with it dirt and leaves which it splashed
everywhere, quenching the fires and soaking our
belongings; the hut rocked and shook on its piles
_ like a liner in a gale; people screamed, dogs barked ;
every moment I thought the hut must collapse. Now
the voice of the wind in the stiff-leafed sago palms
and amongst the tall clumps of bamboo rose to an
angry scream, and above all this tumult could be
heard the deepening roar of the torrent below.

There came an ominous crash, and a shower of
sodden leaves, dirt and debris from the roof littered
the room where I sat, the earth floor of which was
already a puddle; but in the furious gusts which came
raging down the mountain-side I could not tell what
had happened.

Then the people of our hut, snatching up torches,

188 AMONG THE LISUS

rushed out into the darkness, scared and weeping,
and in the dim light cast by the quivering flames
I saw the hut just above ours lying on the ground,
a mass of broken beams, torn thatch, and split posts;
the wind had simply crumpled it up like brown paper.
Around it stood a group of wailing villagers, who
seemed more concerned in rescuing a little food and
a few stoups of liquor than in looking to see if any-
one lay beneath the wreckage, though that may have
been because they knew all had escaped. However,
one of my men said there were people in the hut
when it was blown down, so taking my lamp I climbed
up the shattered roof and dropping through a hole
found myself in the midst of a dreadful tangle through
which it was very difficult to crawl; in this way,
partly on my belly, partly on hands and knees, I

explored such of the interior as was not absolutely »

razed to the ground. However, there were no victims.
The villagers were somewhat concerned for my safety,
as they feared a further settling down of the huge
mass, for their huts are enormously long, and it had
been simply doubled up. As a matter of fact, little
of it could have been laid much flatter than it was
already.

Luckily for us this hut stood near us and to
windward, otherwise ours would have gone! As it
was, fragments had beaten against our roof, sending
showers of debris into the rooms. :

Close by a second hut, in which less than an
hour before a dozen people had been seated round
their family hearths, lay a shapeless mass on the
ground, but from this too the inhabitants had escaped
just in time, so that our further explorations led to

AMONG THE LISUS 189

no sad discoveries. Had anyone remained in the wrecked
hut he must have been crushed by the falling beams,
or suffocated beneath the weight of sodden thatch.

After paddling about in the mud outside and delving
amongst the wreckage till I was festooned with soot
and leaves from the thatch roofs (for chimneys there
are none, and the interior of the hut is black with
the smoke of generations of fires), while people
shouted to me as I crawled here and there to hand
out bite and sup which they specially prized, I returned
to my quarters, thankful they were safe. The fire
had been lit again and T‘ung was preparing my dinner,
though even here, so much water and rubbish were
scattered about, it looked as though there had been
a small earthquake.

It was nine o’clock and the storm was fast dis-
appearing in the south-west—you could still hear it,
growing fainter and fainter as it died away down the
valley. By nine-thirty it was all over, the wind hushed,
even the thunder too faint to be heard. A great
stillness seemed to come upon the wrecked village
as suddenly as the storm itself had fallen on it.

Such was the result of the last ten days of sultry
weather, this furious rush of air and electricity from
the eastern mountains.

September 1 3th.—Minimum 61°8° F. The storm had
perceptibly cooled the atmosphere, but at six-thirty
we could see nothing either above or below, or a
hundred yards away in any direction, for we were
in a bath of mist. However, it soon rolled back on
to the mountains, and the day was as fine as ever,
though less sultry.

The misfortunes of the previous night prevented

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190 AMONG THE LISUS

us engaging porters at this village, all hands being
required to repair the damage, but we prevailed on
those who had accompanied us from the last village
to go on with us another stage.

Ascending the ridge above the village in the track |
of the storm, we found the path blocked in places by
broken branches and uprooted trees, mostly young
alders, the mountain-side here being, as usual, open,
covered with high grass, shrubs, bushes and small
trees forming thick copses. Here I found that curious
parasite Aeginetia indica.

Later we met some travellers, small parties of Lisus
and Marus, a sufficiently rare occurrence to comment
upon.

After marching through the forest clothing the crest
of the ridge we began the descent to the Ahkyang
valley, following a very good path recently cleared of
undergrowth and made with some ideas on the subject
of grading. Presently we reached a fair-sized village,
which, however, appeared to be quite deserted.

We could see some distance up the Ahkyang valley,
which was broad and open, quite different to anything
we had yet seen in this country, following with the
eye paths on either side leading to more villages; but
the river itself, some distance below, was still invisible.

The porters wanted to halt here, protesting that we
could not reach a village across the river that night ;
they even unearthed a man who readily perjured him-
self to say that there was no way of crossing the river
till the morrow.

However, having, after a prolonged halt at the de-
serted village, unearthed a few men, we descended by
a narrow path so buried in grass from eight to twelve

AMONG THE LISUS 191

feet high that we could not see our way, and so steep
that we could hardly feel it, to the Ahkyang.

Meanwhile three of the girl porters who had already
come two marches with us struck work and ran away
to the village above, determined not to cross the river.

This extreme dislike of travelling far from their own
village evinced by most of the Marus may be a relic
of a time when every village was against every other
village, and to enter rival territory risked being cap-
tured and held as a slave. Kachin villages of different
clans to this day raid each other and capture slaves of
their own race.

A quarter of a mile up the left bank of the river we
found a bamboo raft and set about crossing to the
other bank, a long business, as the raft would only take
two men and two loads at a time, besides a crew of one
who squatted in the bows paddling and steering.

The river here was smooth and deep, about fifty
yards wide, with a gentle current; just above was a
big rapid, and the water became turbulent again fifty
yards lower down. Both banks were rocky, fringed with
a great variety of forest trees, and the view down-stream
where the river swept in a broad arc between high cliffs
to join the 7"Nmai hka not far below was most striking.

It was a beautiful sunny afternoon, and while the
raft was plying backwards and forwards I went in for
a swim.

We camped for the night on the far bank under the
rocks and trees, one of the latter being a tremendous
fellow, two huge plank buttress roots of which facing
me looked like the widespread legs of some giant.
Between these my bed was set up.

We were poorly sheltered from rain, but the

192 AMONG THE LISUS

evening was fine, and at eight o’clock the stars were
shining. I had supper to a chorus of insects buzzing
and whirring in the jungle, accompanied by attacks
from mosquitoes and sand-flies which lasted all night.
Before we turned in the Marus from the village above,
who had rafted us across and replaced the runaway
girls, returned to the left bank, promising to come
back again early next morning, a promise which, rather
to my surprise, they kept.

September 14th.—Minimum 65°6° F.—much warmer
down here. Heavy rain in the early morning, so that
we all got wet in our natural shelters, which were not
sufficiently large to protect us. The river water had
changed colour from green to brown, telling of rain in
the mountains ; its temparature was65° F. I saw a big
grey kingfisher here, and the Ahkyang looked an ideal
river for mahseer.

We started about nine on a most appalling climb
straight up the cliff. Once out of the fringe of jungle
the narrow path was completely hidden by the tall,
saw-edged grass, twining Leguminosz, birch and alder
saplings, and shrubs, but mostly tussocks of twelve-foot
grass, so that we were buried in it. Through this
unyielding tangle we had to push our way, sometimes
crawling on hands and knees, so tightly was the
vegetation laced together above, cutting our faces on
the sharp edges of the grass. The sun was blazing
hot, there was no shade and the flies gave us no peace.
On the whole, I thought, the jungles of the Wulaw
Pass were preferable to caine open hill-sides in the
’Nmai valley.

It took us two hours to reach the crest of a spur,
after which the going was better to the top of the ridge.

Photos by} [P. M. R. Leonard, Esq.
Nunc MAIDENS AND IRON SMELTER.

Dressed in cloak and skirt of ‘home manufacture ; those on the right have girdles of cowry
shells threaded on bamboo ; those on the left wear girdles of black rattan cane.

The smelter is holding the skin bellows by which the draught is maintained. The furnace
is made of mud.

AMONG THE LISUS 193

Keeping along the ridge for a bit, we presently found
ourselves on another good path like the one which had
attracted our attention the previous day, and descending
a little, reached a small village.

It was barely one o’clock, but here we had to halt,
having gained nothing but moral satisfaction from
crossing the Ahkyang the night before; it was the
last attempt I made at speeding up. We heard that a
British official and some soldiers had just gone up the
Ahkyang valley, having slept in the hut we now
occupied; however, he was expected back in a day or
two, whereat I rejoiced. Still, we could not wait, as we
had so little to eat, and besides he might be short of
supplies himself on his return march. But I hoped he
might overtake us before we reached Hkamti Long.

As it turned out eventually, it was not a British
officer at all, but a native Government employe.

We spent a beautiful sunny afternoon drying our
things. It was quite pleasant here at an altitude of
5000 or 6000 feet, with a cool breeze, the shade
temperature at three p.m. being 79°1° F. At dusk |
a wind sprang up and rain threatened, but at seven
o’clock the stars were shining. However, when we »
turned in at nine-thirty it was raining steadily, and it
was a fact that you could not depend on the weather
for an hour in this valley.

September 15¢h.—Minimum temperature 64°3 °F. For
several days past we had been inquiring how many
marches it was to Hkamti Long, but no one knew; they
did not seem to have ever heard of the place. However,
I reckoned from the map it could not be many marches
now; but the worst was yet to come.

As usual, the valley was full of cloud when we got

194 AMONG THE LISUS

up, but presently patches of blue sky began to show
through the breaking mists overhead. After nine we
had continuous sunshine and blue sky over the valley,
with clouds only on the mountain-tops.

It was, too, distinctly cooler again, and there being
very much less climbing than usual, I was able to take
more interest in my surroundings, in spite of a long
eight hours’ march.

There were certainly plenty of things to interest one
on every hand—plants, trees, butterflies, birds, to say
nothing of the few people we met on the road, and
those in the villages.

In the very next village we came to we met a party
of Lisus from farther north, quite different from any we
had yet come across. Each carried a very long, straight,
pointed dah, similar to the Burmese weapon, in a proper
sheath, not like the short, broad-headed dah of the
Kachin tribes, with its open scabbard. This dab was
about four feet long and had a scarlet handle.

They also had bags made from the fur of a silver-
grey monkey, whose paws were crossed pathetically
over the lid of the bag.

The first half of the march we were in the jungle
nearly all the time, the path quite good, with easy ups
and downs. Mosquitoes, flies and bees were rather a
pest here.

, Amongst the trees I noted two species of oak, a
Castanopsis, a Ficus, two tree ferns and several big lianas.
Many of the trees had conspicuous plank buttress roots,
and a climbing Aroid was common, besides bananas,
begonias, Impatiens and other jungle flowers; but I saw
no palms or screw pines. The most interesting plant
met with was a species of Piper, the leaves and fruits of

AMONG THE LISUS 195

which were eagerly plucked by my porters to chew;
they said it improved their stamina.

In the southern parts of Burma Piper betle is culti-
vated, and the leaves chewed with lime and the betel
palm nut (Areca sp.) by the natives.

On the open hill-sides grew two species of Rubus,
Alnus nepalensis, Ailanthus sp., shrubby Polygonum, a
poplar, a birch, Melastoma sp., tall, yellow-flowered
Hibiscus, Urena lobata covered with pink flowers, and
any amount of saw-edged grass.

On a plant of Polygonum I saw a caterpillar of the
Geometrz class, which at first I took for a dead leaf.
There were several shrivelled brown leaves on the stem,
and this cunning caterpillar, by standing on the stem
at the same angle as a dead leaf, being of the same
colour and shape, readily passed for one.

Another caterpillar might easily have been mistaken
for a muff, so densely was he clothed with hairs; he
must have found it very hot in this climate, I thought!

Several birds whose voices are familiar in Burma
were heard calling, and on the banks brown, smooth-
skinned, shiny lizards disported themselves; we also
saw a couple of green snakes, neither of large size.

After emerging from the jungle on the summit of
the ridge, and descending a little, we came to some
Lisu huts, and here the men got a few yellow-skinned
cucumbers, two of which constituted my lunch; they
were very juicy, and splendid thirst-quenchers.

The path here was pretty good, winding round a few
small gullies which did not give us much climbing up
and down. We passed through two more small Lisu
villages, and then a climb to the summit of a spur, with
a view of the river to the north, and a longish descent,

196 AMONG THE LISUS

brought us to Wakawatu, the first Lisu village of any
size. We did not arrive here till after six, when it was
already dark, having done about twenty miles.
At nine p.m. the sky was cloudy, the temperature 69° F.
We had great fun with the baboon this march. He
generally rode on top of one of the loads, or on a man’s
shoulder, or even on his head, where he spent the time
looking for lice, an occupation which amused him greatly
and was certainly attended by a fair measure of success.
Now that he had come to recognise in some manner my
claims on him, I could pick him up and perch him on my
shoulder, from which vantage point he would pull
my hair vigorously—I couldn’t offer him the same amuse-
ment as the natives did. However, he was not quite
reconciled to me yet. When I picked him up, he ~
would look up into my face with a surprised, questioning
expression, as though asking me what I meant by taking
such a liberty with him, blink his eyes very deliberately
once or twice, keep still for a moment, and then give a
sudden wriggle, at the same moment biting my fingers.
The suddenness of the attack often ensured its success,
and then he would drop to the ground and make off at
full speed, in a series of leaps which took him along
at a great pace.
Then perhaps Maru, seeing him and thinking it was
rather a good game, would rush after him, and it was
laughable to see them together, the one fleeing and
dodging as though for his life, the other in hot pursuit.
Eventually the pup would catch him up, and roll him
over, and the monkey would lie low by the roadside
for a minute, covering his face with his hands.
Presently Maru would begin to lick him and give him
little playful nips, and the monkey would shut his eyes

‘

AMONG THE LISUS 197

and tilt up his chin and smooth a few of the creases out
of his face with a pained, resigned sort of expression
which said as plainly as words: ‘I suppose I had best
submit to the ill-timed levity of this plebeian beast.”

Maru was always very gentle, but the monkey never
became quite reconciled to him, escaping as soon as he
could and swarming up the nearest man’s leg, from
which safe retreat he would chatter with rage at the
indignity of it all, and grin horribly at the puzzled little
dog, who did not understand.

He expressed his emotions volubly. When his
attempts to escape from my clutches met with no
success, he would give a shrill, querulous call, as
though he were lost and required immediate assistance.
It was a plaintive cry for help to one of the natives.
When annoyed, as he was when I smacked him for
biting, he always gave an angry little scream; at
meal-time he mewed like a kitten, which was his
way of asking for food, and again he would change to
a coughing purr, which seemed to indicate contentment.!

September 16¢/.—Minimum temperature 65°5° F.
In contrast to the Maru huts, the Lisu huts, though
of a more substantial build, are quite small and have

1 Macaca assamensis. ‘ Anger is generally silent, or at most
expressed by a low, hoarse monotone, Aeu, not so gular or guttural
as a growl. Ennui and a desire for company by a whining hom.
Invitation, deprecation, entreaty by a smacking of the lips, and a
display of the incisors into a regular broad grin, accompanied with
a subdued grunting chuckle, highly expressive, but not to be rendered
on paper. Fear and alarm by a loud, harsh shriek, gra, or kronk,
which serves also as a warning to the others who may be heedless
of danger. Unlike the Presbytes (Semnopitheci) and Gibbons,
they have no voice if calling to one another”’ (Tickell, in Fauna

of British India, by W. 'T’. Blanford, F.R.S.).

198 AMONG THE LISUS

scarcely any projecting porch in front; nor is there
any passage down the length of the hut—instead the
interior is completely partitioned into three rooms, as
in the Yawyin huts already described. .Like the Maru
huts, they are raised on piles, with walls and floor of
bamboo matting, and thatched roof. In the middle
of each room is the usual earthen hearth. |

Besides being much smaller, the Lisu huts are
more scattered, and the villages are situated in the
bays between the spurs, instead of being perched
up on the spurs themselves. The Lisus we met all
spoke Maru, though none of the Marus could speak
Lisu.

We continued our march northwards in drizzling
weather, though it improved in the middle of the
day. The path was fairly easy, though we had to
cross one big gully. Just here the 7Nmai valley was
more open, the slopes more gentle, the spurs falling
less abruptly to the river, so that when, in the after-.
noon, we got up to a fair height, looking back we
had quite a striking view of the river, hitherto so
rarely visible.

About one-thirty we halted at a Lisu village for
rest and refreshment, having been going for nearly
five hours.

These Lisus must not be confused with the Yawyins
(hua Lisus) of the Burma-Yun-nan - frontier hills
farther south. True, they speak practically the same
language, and are probably different clans of the
same tribe. But they differ considerably from the
Yawyins in dress, and to some extent in appearance,
being taller but less sturdy. They are, in fact,
identical with the redoubtable “black” (42) Lisus

AMONG THE LISUS 199

of the Salween valley, from which region they have
emigrated into British territory via the Ahkyang
valley, probably within recent years, as a result of
the recent Chinese occupation of the Salween valley,
just as the Yawyins are doing farther south. I saw
evidence of Chinese influence in their clothes, cooking
pots and household goods.

I found them rather shy and suspicious; they asked
prohibitive prices for eggs, and beyond that we could
buy hardly anything from them, though my cook
commandeered a fowl about the size of a dove, for
which I paid a rupee.

It would seem that the 4é Lisus are a degenerate
clan of the great Lisu tribe, who have been adversely
affected by living in the enervating Salween valley,
which, from latitude 28° southwards, is low-lying, rain-
drenched and pestilential.

The Aua Lisus, on the other hand, many of whom,
as we have seen, are now migrating into British
territory from across the China frontier, owing to
the pressure of the Chinese, are a typical mountain
people, hardy, resourceful and pleasant to deal with.

The dress of the 48 Lisu women is characteristic,
and quite distinct from the harlequin skirt of the
Yawyin, which latter peculiarity is said to be due
to local influence.

She wears a thin, pleated skirt down to her
knees, rather full at the waist, made of white hemp
cloth with thin blue stripes, and a loose jacket to
match. Feet and legs are bare, but below the knee a
garter of black cane rings is worn. There is little
display of jewellery such as the Tibetan women
wear, this being confined to large earrings and silver

200 AMONG THE LISUS

bracelets, while hoops of bamboo or iron are worn
round the neck. The ears are not bored like those
of the Burmans, Shans and Kachin tribes, nor are’
masses of beads, such as the Lashis, Marus and
others delight in, worn—probably because they are not
obtainable. The hair is done in two hanging pig-
tails, and round the brow is bound a fillet of white
shirt buttons, or, in rare cases, of cowry shells, from
which dangles a fringe of tiny beads ending with
dummy brass bells. Cowry belts like those of the
Maru girls were not seen. |

The men wear a long cloak like a dressing-gown,
of the same thin, white, striped cloth, which is slit
up the sides to the middle and tied round the waist.
Often short, baggy trousers of blue cotton cloth, —
obtained from China, are worn underneath, and not
a few of the men wear Chinese trousers and jacket
only. The hair is done in a single pig-tail which is
not bound on top of the head. Large dahs, cross-
bows and bags of monkey-skin, in which tobacco and
food are carried, are in everyday use.

So much for the 4é Lisus of the Burmese hinterland.
They do not differ materially from their relatives in
the Salween valley immediately to the east, though
some of the latter are even more uncouth.

In the afternoon we continued our march, reaching
another village after dark, by which time we . had
covered over twenty miles.

CHAPTER XIII
A DESPERATE MARCH

EPTEMBER 17th.—Minimum 63°7° F., the
* valley below us full of cloud in the early morning
as usual. |

We were told we could reach Hkamti in six days,
but that as there were no villages en route we should
have to engage porters for the whole journey. That
meant a delay anyhow, to prepare food. Unfortunately
all the men of the village had gone as porters with
a Government party which had been up the Ahkyang
valley a fortnight previously and were not back yet.

I therefore decided to push on with our permanent
men—namely, four Marus and three Lashis—leaving
Tung to follow in charge of the remaining loads
~ as soon as possible; meanwhile we sent a Lashi and
a Maru back to the last village to engage porters
there. |

Starting late, we crossed several deep gullies filled
with dense jungle, the path becoming worse and
worse, and presently reached a few miserable Lisu
huts, where we halted for an hour. Continuing,
we crossed more gullies, and at length obtained a
good view of the river, to which we descended
gradually.

Now for the first time we found ourselves by the
great river we had followed so persistently for over
a fortnight, with rarely even a glimpse of it, though

201

202 A: DESPERATE MARCH

so close. It was a fine, swift river seventy or eighty
yards broad, broken here and there by rapids. The
temperature of the water, which was deep green
in colour, was 63° F., two degrees colder than the
Ahkyang.

The thick jungle came down almost to the water’s
edge on both sides, but there were sand-banks and
coves, and stretches of boulders covered with azalea
(Rhododendron indicum), Pyrus and other shrubs like
those we had seen previously. The river was not
in full spate, for the winter snows had long since
melted on the northern mountains, and probably the
worst of the rains were over.

We halted before dusk in a sandy bay where stood
a few old bamboo shelters, roofed with banana leaves,
which the men proceeded to renovate. Close beside
us was a glorious tree, like a weeping hornbeam,
from which depended hundreds of long yellow ropes
of winged fruits. This was a species of Englehardtia.

The view just before dark, with wreaths of thin
mist forming over the river which twisted away into
the twilight of the forested mountains, was extra-
ordinarily solemn; the cicadas were making such a
noise we could barely hear the splash of the water
below our sand-bank, or the occasional hoot of an
owl. But the low-hanging clouds were not reassuring,
and the sand-flies and mosquitoes were a nightmare.

September 18th. —Minimum 65°7° F. When we
woke up at daylight banks of mist lay over the river,
which was scarcely visible except immediately below,
but there was blue sky overhead.

Following up the left bank, we reached the crossing
in an hour, and here happily met the returning Lisus

A DESPERATE MARCH 203

of the last village, otherwise we should probably
never have got across at all. In winter at least rafts
can cross near where we camped, and probably they
could have made the trip safely now, only there
were none. Here the river was narrower, and flowed
swiftly between high, rocky walls of vertically tilted
slates and schists.

_ From bank to bank were loosely slung two ropes
of plaited bamboo, their ends tied to trees; and by
one or other of these ropes, it did not matter which,
we had to cross.

Such rope bridges are common in Tibet, across
bigger rivers than this, but how different!

In the first place, each rope is attached high up
on the bank from which you start, and low down
on the bank at which you arrive, and is kept taut;
thus you cross the river by your own momentum,
and the object of having two ropes is to enable you
to cross in either direction.

In the second place, the Tibetan ropes are of
finely plaited bamboo, and are well greased (with
butter) before starting, to reduce the friction. But
this rope was made up of three coarsely woven
strands, so splintered as to look very unsafe, and
there was no grease. The wooden sliders too were
broad and ill-balanced, adding to the friction. Finally,
instead of stout leather thongs such as the Tibetans
use for slinging men and loads from the slider, the
Lisus used their waist-cloths and turbans, both of
which were yards in length. It was evident the
Lisus were not accustomed to this method of crossing
a river, and the whole outfit was very second-rate in
consequence,

204 A DESPERATE MARCH

Every man had to pull himself across more than —
half-way. As for the loads, they would not budge —
down the rope of their own accord, and each one
had to be laboriously hauled along by a man in front,
who clasped his legs round it and then slowly pulled
himself and the load up the rope. No wonder the
crossing took four hours! The Tibetans would have
had us across one of their rope bridges in an hour.

Meanwhile, waiting on the steep river bank, we
were tortured by mosquitoes, bees and biting mae
of many descriptions.

The men crossed one by one, clutching the rope
with their toes and pushing, as well as pulling with
their arms.

My turn to cross came last. Accustomed to being
whisked across the great Tibetan rivers in one grand
rush, I did not at all relish the prospect of hauling
myself up this sagging rope.

Just before I started the monkey, seeing none of
his friends round him, jumped from my shoulder on to
the rope and began running across, crying out as he
went. In the middle he stopped, as though frightened
by the rush of water beneath him; once or twice
he slipped, and I thought he must go over, but he
performed the hazardous feat of turning round without
mishap.

I then started and slid less that half-way over.
It was a most horrid sensation lying on one’s back
beneath the rope, perched in a cloth noose suspended
from a slider which threatened to slip off the rope,
leaving the cloth to be cut through by the sharp
bamboo, arms stretched out at full length over one’s
head, clutching the rope.

A DESPERATE MARCH 205

Tremendous exertion was needed to pull oneself
up the steep rope in such a position, against the
friction of the slider, and when I was over the very
worst bit of water, a broken rapid, running like a
mill race, I felt thoroughly exhausted, and had to
hang on there for a rest. Thus, looking down at
the raging river forty feet below, from which I was
preserved by a cloth band and the strength of my
own arms, I could not suppress a shudder.

I had now caught up the monkey, seeing which
he sat grinning at me for a moment, and then jumped
on my shoulder. Slowly I pulled myself up the
remaining distance, and as | at last neared the bank,
the waiting men threw a rope and hauled me up the
last few yards like a sack. It was good to stand on
solid earth again.

One of the Lisus returning from Kawnglu, the out-
lying British post our informants had referred to when
Saying we were six marches from Hkamti, brought me
a note from Mr J. T. O. Barnard, the frontier officer
there, enclosing a telegram from Mr Hertz, Deputy
Commissioner at Hkamti Long.

I was glad they were expecting me; it seemed to
bring the place nearer. No mention was made of the
war and we were still in complete ignorance of that
astounding news.

We now climbed up the steep river bank in thick
jungle by an execrable path till we joined the main
path a few hundred feet above the river. Except
for ankle-deep mud, which had been a feature of the
path ever since leaving the Lisu village, the going
was not bad.

Crossing a large torrent, we ascended gradually,

206 A DESPERATE MARCH —

approaching a considerable lateral valley, and halted
at five o’clock by an old camping ground. Here we
settled down for the night in a perfect haze of sand-
flies, did up the old tumble-down shelters, and cut
bamboos for new ones, roofing them as usual with
leaves of wild banana.

Breakfast had consisted of tea, two biscuits and
a plate of boiled rice and pumpkin, followed by a
boiled egg.

This last was sprung on me as a surprise, having
been commandeered by my Chinese cook, who, ignor-
ing the protests of the Lisus that they had none,
had gone the round of the baskets hung beneath
the eaves of the hut and resurrected six. At two
o’clock I had a small piece of chocolate for lunch,
and when we reached camp, at five, I had a cup of
tea with two biscuits and a maize cob. For supper,
a plate of boiled rice and pumpkin, apple rings and
some maize liquor obtained from the natives. The
biscuit, egg and tea ration were carefully apportioned
to each day, in the hope of making them last out,
but with the rice, pumpkin and maize cobs I could
afford to be fairly reckless. There was nothing else.

September 19th.—Minimum 66° F, The weather was
very unsettled all day, with showers at intervals.

Shortly after starting we came to the big torrent
up which our route lay westward to the pass, and
turning our backs on the ’Nmai hka began the
ascent. We were now over our ankles in mud the
whole time, which made it very tiring—loose sand
is the only thing to compare with it. Presently
the stream branched into two, and the ascent became
steeper. Near by we saw a mule skeleton and broken

A DESPERATE MARCH 207

pack-saddle, grim reminders of the previous year’s
expedition to the Ahkyang!

Some Lisus on their way down passed us, and at
three o’clock we halted by the torrent, which here
tumbled noisily down a steep granite stairway, camp-
ing beneath a huge boulder which afforded ample
shelter for all; and a very cosy place it was, though
chilly chiefly on account of the torrent. A large
torrent always causes a cold draught.

On the rocks grew several species of Impatiens,
including the one with bright magenta flowers, and
an orange one with a long spur; another pretty one
had large rose-pink flowers. In the jungle I noticed
walnut-trees, but the nuts are like stones and con-
tain no edible kernel.

The monkey was quite friendly with me by this
time, and rode on my shoulder most of the way,
eating chocolate. He was very fond of maize liquor
too, and would fill his cheek pouches with food to
be chewed at leisure later on. He had a curious
way of sleeping on his belly, all bunched up into
a ball, and his little cry of pleasure, his querulous
scream and his shrill scream of anger were fre-
quently heard.

In the forest I saw an enormous butterfly, similar
to one noticed at Hpimaw. It flapped its great wings
slowly and sedately, and settled with them outspread,
the hind wings being purple and brown, fading to
white on the front wings. It haunts shady forests at
moderate elevations.

At eight-thirty the ‘ichiiniaiet stood at 60%5° Fs)

September 20th.— Minimum 508° F. For nearly
three hours we climbed steeply up the mountain-side in

208 A DESPERATE MARCH

the deep mud, while it rained steadily throughout, —
In some of the steepest places attempts had been
made by the Chinese muleteers who had accompanied _
the expedition in the previous year to improve the
track by laying down bamboos; but as these were
laid lengthwise we could not stand on them, what-
ever the mules could do, and slipped so badly at —
every step—for wet bamboo on a slope is like ice— _
that we were content to plod through the thick, sticky, —
mud instead. %

At last we reached the pass known as the Shing-
rup-kyet, 8000 feet, and stood on the water parting
between the 7Nmai hka and the Mali hka, the two —
great branches of the Irrawaddy which unite above
Myitkyina, nearly 1000 miles from the sea and )
200 miles from where we stood. Through the thick
rain mist we could see a loop of the ’Nmai hka
to the north-east, which was within a short day’s —
march. Had we been able to see westwards we
should have seen nothing but range after range of
forested mountains, stretching to the horizon, all
of which had to be crossed before we reached the
Mali hka and the broad, open plains of Hkamti.
However, we were spared that sight—perhaps it was
as well not to know what was in store for us—and
looked down into a cauldron of obliterating mist
instead.

Following the stream down between high banks
covered with variously coloured begonias and balsam,
we presently came on an open meadow in the jungle,
where a species of Impatiens grew four feet high,
and scattered in its midst were bananas, oaks and Ficus
trees, covered with climbing Aroids. ,

A Maru GRAVE AND A NuNG ROPE BRIDGE.

The grave has a sugar-loaf thatched roof. It is crowned by a painted design. Inside is th
coffin, containing ashes, not bones. Photo by A. W. Porter, Esq.

The man’s body is thrust through a large cane ring, threaded on the rope; he hauls himself
along, pushing with his feet. Photo by P. M. R. Leonard, Esq.

A DESPERATE MARCH — 209

Then down, down, a long way, till it seemed we
must be coming down to the plains\almost, so big
had the stream grown.

But no sooner had this thought come to me than
we began to climb again, ascending a steep spur.
Up and up we went, while the rain poured down,
making the track hopelessly slippery, till we had re-
ascended as many thousand feet as we had previously
descended.

At last we came to some shelters, built by previous
travellers, and the men wanted to halt—it was then
about three-thirty. But camp was so dismal and we
were so short of food that I was determined to march
while there was daylight, so on we went, now up,
now down, with occasional peeps through the trees
and broken mist of endless mountain ranges in the
west.

Finally we started definitely on another long descent,
and did not halt till nearly six, when we came to a _
miserable shelter. ‘The men soon ran up some new
ones and built smoky fires to keep down the sand-
flies which swarmed. Leeches too had begun to
worry us, particularly little Maru, who ran along with
his nose on the ground and got them up his nostrils,
under his eyelids, and in his ears. Big blood-sucking
horse-flies were another pest, and at supper nasty-
looking stick-insects got bogged.in the butter, and
drunken cicadas dropped into the food from the
trees, protesting stridently. But the most remark-
able change on this side of the divide- was the
sudden appearance of screw pines (Pandanus sp.)
in large numbers, growing fifteen or twenty feet
_ high, propped up on their stilt roots.
fe)

210 A DESPERATE MARCH

In the afternoon the monkey ran away into the
jungle out of pique because I smacked him. I thought

he was lost, but presently I heard him screeching away,
and caught sight of ‘him crawling along the branch of a
tree farther down the slope. I called and called, but

——

ms oo

he ceased crying, and I had almost ‘given him up when ~
he reappeared sitting on the path below. When he ©

saw me coming he grinned, ran down the path a little way,

I after him, and then sat up again, waiting ; when I came ©
to him he climbed up my leg and seemed pleased to be —

back. I don’t think that he liked that five minutes at
home, for it was raining hard at the time and he hated

rain. Whether it was a momentary twinge of home- —

sickness or a joke he was unable to tell me, but he never
ran away again. We passed many more discarded
pack-saddles on this march.

September 21st.—Minimum 62°7° F. It rained
steadily all night and continued most of ‘the day, the
longest and most trying march we had yet done, ten
hours in the sodden jungle.

First we continued the descent of the previous evening,
crossed a big torrent, and traversed for some distance,

winding our way round gully after gully. The whole —
region was a perfect maze of mountains, cut up by ~

hundreds of streams flowing deep in their jungle-hidden
ravines, and the road was marked by the skeletons of
mules and broken pack-saddles, All the time we were

squelching ankle-deep in mud, tortured by leeches —

which dropped on us from the trees.
My feet and ankles were now covered with dreadful

sores brought on by being always wet, and the bites of —

leeches which easily got through my worn-out boots.

Every night the continuous irritation would awaken ©

A DESPERATE MARCH 211

me, or even prevent me getting any sleep at all
sometimes.

A long climb brought us to the top of a ridge, and this
we followed up and down for mile on mile. A gleam of
sunshine at one: o’clock was a false alarm, but another
gleam about four proved less fleeting. At five, when I
was tramping along mechanically, noticing little, I saw
something better than sunshine, for the white mist
between the trees suddenly gave place to a deep indigo
blueness, and I knew what that meant—it was the
blueness of distant mountains. ‘The plains at last! I
thought. At the same moment we began to descend
into a deep valley, and presently the fretted mountains
on either side of the ridge showed up momentarily
through the changeful mists; far below we distinctly
heard above the patter of raindrops the unmistakable
chatter of a river.

It was now getting late and we raced down the
almost precipitous path as fast as we could go. Down,
down, several thousand feet, till the whir of cicadas
filled the air again, and it grew perceptibly warmer. At
last we could see the valley below us, and at six-thirty
we reached a considerable river, the Shang wang, a
tributary of the Nam Tisang, which flows into the Mali.

Crossing by a bamboo trestle bridge, we reached a
small hut at dark, built by the expedition in the previous
year. Never had I been so tired as I was that night.
Next day I anticipated an easy walk down the river
valley to the plains.

September 22nd.—Minimum 67:2° F. It was very
close down here and I slept badly in consequence of
the sudden change and on account of the sand-flies.

We started late, and immediately faced a mountain

212 A DESPERATE MARCH

once more. There was no easy march down the valley —
after all!

Showers fell throughout the day, the clouds moving —
up and down rhythmically. First the clouds would be ©
lying down in the valleys, where it was raining, though —
we, high up, could see blue sky overhead; then they
would start climbing up, and we would get glimpses
into the valley below. Presently, having concentrated
their forces against the mountain-tops, they would drip —
rain for an hour, and having exhausted themselves, sink
back wearily into the valleys again, leaving the wan sun
to warm us. And this performance would be repeated —
again and again.

The long climb up the steep spur was wearying, and
I was nearly exhausted before we reached the summit.
Happily I found hidden away in my box a packet of
crystalline jelly, such as cooks use for mixing with
boiling water to make ordinary jelly, which I ate
greedily.

At three we began to descend, and just afterwards
the leading men stopped on the edge of a cliff, where
the trees had fallen away, and pointed dramatically.

A thousand feet below, seen through a mist of rain,
were the roofs of a frontier fort!

Joyfully we stumbled down the path in the
jungle, passed through the barbed wire and found
ourselves inside the British post of Kawnglu.

Here were Gurkha sepoys, Babu clerks and—yes,
a white face again!

How they stared at us to be sure; and well they
might, coming unexpectedly out of the ‘jim like that,
from God knew where!

And what sights!—I with a six, weeks’ growth of

A DESPERATE MARCH 213

beard, dirty and haggard, my clothes worn out, my
boots flapping, my hair long; the men soaked to the
_ skin and covered with mud!

Captain Clive greeted me heartily and sent me down
-to the bungalow, where I saw Captain (now Major)
Conry; I had met him only eighteen months previously,
but he did not know me!

Neither officer could do too much for me. They
‘gave me a hot bath and a shave, clean clothes, and
then sat me down to a tea I shall remember as long as
I remember my travels. How I gulped down cup after
cup of tea, and made inroads on the ham, poached
eggs, and bread and butter! It was weeks since I had
had a proper meal.

And then came the bombshell! .

“Ts there any news?” I asked nonchalantly.

I was not particularly interested. At home one
rushes for the morning paper at breakfast, but it is
mere habit; deprived of daily news, one soon ceases to
worry. It is like giving up drink or smoking, or going
without little luxuries when travelling—after the first
week you find they were only luxuries, and don’t miss
them, indeed forget all about them. And I have
always found when going for months without news of
the outside world that it went on just the same, my
not knowing did not seem to affect it much; anyway it
never stopped. But now

“< You know about the war, I suppose?” said Captain
Conry.

“The war? Not China? Or do you mean civil
war in Ireland at last?”

“No,” he said, staring; ‘England, France and
Russia against Germany and Austria! ”

CHAPTER XIV

INFINITE TORMENT OF LEECHES

talked. My hosts brought out all the papers they

had, which were not many, for mails took three
weeks to come by mule from Myitkyina, and during
the rains often did not come at all, so bad was the
track; but for a long time my head was in a whirl,
and I could not adjust my ideas to this novel perspective
— war!

The canard of the North Sea fight in which most of
the German navy had been sunk reached even to this
remote outpost, only to be contradicted. Already the
Russians, according to our newspapers, had captured
the entire Austrian army, and the decisive battle was
even now taking place in France. I wondered vaguely
if I could get home before it was all over, and mentally
kicked myself for coming such a long way round when
I might have gone straight down to Rangoon! |

Kawnglu fort is, like Hpimaw fort, situated on the
shoulder of a steep spur. It was impossible on account
of the clouds in which we lived at this altitude (about
6000 feet—that is, 2000 feet lower than at Hpimaw) to
obtain a comprehensive view of the surrounding country;
but immediately behind us rose the mountains, densely
clothed with thick forest, which we had just crossed,
and below the country fell away rapidly to the bottom
valleys and foot-hills bordering the plain, which, as the

214

|: the evening we sat out on the verandah and

TORMENT OF LEECHES 215

crow flies, was not far distant. ‘There were no more
mountains between us and Fort Hertz, six marches
away. —

Towards sunset a magnificent sight, marred by rather
too much cloud, burst upon us, for we looked right
across the Hkamti plain, which lay invisible in white
wrappings, to the mountains of Assam, standing up
clear against the western light; and northwards to the
towering snow-clad peaks of the Lohit divide, mysteri-
ous Tibet! In the growing dusk the long waves of
ghostly vapour, from amongst which shot up into the
blue haze above, lit by a crescent moon, the flanking
ranges of the Himalaya and Tibet, was a sight worth
marching all those miles to see!

Early next morning too the mountains were visible
above an ocean of cloud, which lay heavily over the
plain, but the clouds soon rose and masked everything.

So we sat talking till the young moon set, and then
I walked down the hill to the civil officer’s bungalow,
where I was to sleep, he being away. I should probably
meet him on the third march to Fort Hertz, they told
me.

I could not envy those two officers in their lonely
fort, much as I had appreciated what seemed the.
luxuries they had placed at my disposal after the dis-
comforts of a long march.

They lived for nine months of the year buried in
cloud, surrounded by jungles in which nothing was
heard but the dismal drip of the rain. What a relief
it must have been to go off to the Ahkyang for a month
on escort duty, as they did occasionally, or down to
Fort Hertz, where at least there were four more white
men!

— 216 INFINITE TORMENT

But they stood it, though they confessed it was
dull.

It is no use for the student to say: “But what an
opportunity to study languages, or literature, or other
academic pursuit!?? The men who find themselves
in such places are just the men who cannot readily
do these things—energetic, active, high-spirited, and
adventurous. What have they to do with scholar-
ship? Nor is the necessary attitude of mind to be
achieved at short notice. Most men do, however,
readjust themselves somewhat to the altered circum-
stances—sufhciently so to pass an examination in at
least one of the local dialects, sooner or later.

This by the way. The lot of these men on the
extreme fringe of the Empire is often cheerless
enough, and at this time it seemed doubly hard to
be chained to such a spot. But as Captain Conry
said: “If I cannot go myself, I’ll take care that my
Gurkhas, who have volunteered almost to a man, know
something of their job!” So he worked them night
and day, sparing neither himself nor them, night
operations being a feature of their training.

September 23rd.—l was awakened by the calling
of gibbons in the jungle, and having packed, sent the
porters on ahead while I had breakfast in the fort. So
loath was I to tear myself away from the hospitality
extended to me that it was nearly midday before I
started. )

Descending to the valley below by a steep path,
I caught up the porters, who had not hurried them- —
selves, and we went on leisurely through the jungle,
by a path which except for the mud was easy com-
pared with some we had seen. Passing through two

A DULENG VILLAGE AND SHAN Gir_ts, HKAmMII LONG.
the typical hut of the Kachin tribes.

ke can be seen on the left. Photo by T. Hare, Esq.
P. M. R. Leonard, Esq.

Long, low, grass-thatched huts, raised on piles ;

The sacrificial sta
Note the dainty dress of these civilized folk. Photo by

OF LEECHES 217

Duleng villages, we halted at a third close to the
Nam Tisang, a tributary of which, it will be remem-
bered, we had crossed two days previously.

The Dulengs are a Kachin tribe, and are the great
iron-workers of this country, making the dahs and
spears used by the Shans, Chingpaws and others.
The iron comes from mines in the Kachin country
to the south, between the Mali and *Nmai rivers.

Their huts are similar to those of the Marus, built
on piles and thatched with leaves of the fan palm;
but the front porch, instead of being fenced round, is
open. The great central pillar in the porch of the
Kachin hut, whether Maru, Duleng or Chingpaw,
is as it were the corner-stone of the building, a fowl
or pig being killed when it is erected. On it are
hung the skulls of sacrificed animals, mithan or
buffalo.

The Dulengs, both men and women, tie the hair
in a knot on top of the head, and wear a coloured
handkerchief over it. The only garment worn is a
lone-gyi, or skirt, usually dark blue striped with dull
red, and fastened rather above the waist. In place
of a jacket the women wear coils of black rattan
wire round the breasts, drawing attention to rather
than modestly concealing them. Indeed they have
rather fine figures these Duleng women, being bigger
than the Marus, and well made; but their looks
are nothing to boast of. Very few beads or cowries
are worn—a great contrast to the Marus—and practic-
ally no other ornaments; a roll of paper or a bamboo
tube is thrust through the large hole bored in the
lower lobe of the ear, a few rattan rings passed round
the calf below the knee, and that is all.

218 INFINITE TORMENT

It was hot and muggy in the valley, for after
heavy rain about ten it cleared up, the sun shining out
and the storm passing up into the mountains, though
we were treated to showers again in the afternoon.

The vegetation now took on a more tropical appear-
ance. There were many palms, including sago, rattans
or climbing palm, a species of Nipa by the river and
a tall, fan-leafed Borassus or cabbage palm, Selangi-
nella, including a tall, erect species, and hundreds
of bird’s-nest ferns; one tree supporting a whole
series from base to summit, so that the rosettes of
foliage seemed to belong rather to the tree itself.

Later, in the more open country, we found the
villages sheltered beneath fine clumps of bamboo
growing sixty feet high. There were sacred nat trees
too, generally figs, with matted, snaky roots, the
far-spreading branches supported by thin pillars taut
as steel rods, beneath which stood little bamboo tables
with food offerings to the mats. But of flowers there
were none, save here and there a white convolvulus
and the usual, or often unusual (for every district seems
to harbour new species), gaudy balsams. Strange,
therefore, that there should be so many butterflies ;
but indeed they seemed to live on filth rather than
on nectar. /

September 24th,—Minimum 69:2° F. The Maru
porters turned back from here as they did not wish
to go to Fort Hertz. This caused a delay, as new
ones had to be found to replace them, and we did
not start till ten, crossing the Nam Tisang, a broad,
swift stream, in dug-outs. The water was several
feet below its highest flood-level, as indicated by
the bedraggled vegetation, covered with flotsam, which

"
,
x
t
- :

OF LEECHES 219

grew thinly on the sand-banks. In many places these
sand-banks were deeply trenched by rain channels
where the water had poured down from the steep
slopes above. On the far side the sand had been
cut up by the rain into a curious appearance of bas-
relief, due to rubbish protecting it from being washed
away, leaving imprints of leaves, often perfect, standing
up as much as two inches above the general level
of the sand. The granite of the mountains had
given place to laterite, which had been pounded into
a sticky clay, retarding us considerably; but it was
a relief having no mountains to climb, the path crossing
small spurs only.

The land leeches, however, were dreadful.

These little fiends are about an inch long and,
at a full stretch, no thicker than a knitting needle.
They progress similarly to a looper caterpillar, though
they are not, of course, provided with legs. Fixing
one end, which is expanded into a bell-shaped sucker,
the leech curves itself over into a complete arch, fixes
the other extremity in the same way, and releasing
the rear end, advances it till a close loop is formed.
The process is then repeated, the creature advancing
with uncanny swiftness in a series of loops. From
time to time it rears itself up on end and sways
about, swinging slowly round in larger and larger
circles as it seeks blindly, but with a keen sense of
smell, its prey; then suddenly doubling itself up in
a loop, it continues the advance with unerring instinct.
There is nothing more horribly fascinating than to
see the leaves of the jungle undergrowth, during the
rains, literally shaking under the motions of these
slender, bloodthirsty, finger-like creatures, as they

220 INFINITE TORMENT

sway and swing, then start looping inevitably towards
you. They have a trick, too, of dropping on to the
traveller from above into his hair and ears, or down
his neck. Cooper? says there are three kinds of
leeches in Assam, including the red or hill leech,
and the hair leech. I do not recollect coming across
either of these last two on the North-East Frontier,

but I have no doubt that if they are found in Assam

they are also found in the Burmese hinterland.

Poor little Maru suffered most of all. I halted
continuously to relieve him, on one occasion pulling
six off his gums, two from each nostril, several from
inside his eyelids, and others from his belly, neck,
flanks, and from between his toes. Sometimes his
white coat was red with blood, or rather with a
mixture of blood and mud.

As for me, leeches entered literally every orifice
except my mouth, and I became so accustomed to
the little cutting bite, like the caress of a razor,
that I scarcely noticed it at the time. On two
occasions leeches obtained such strategic positions
that I only noticed them just in time to prevent
very serious, if not fatal, consequences. I also
ran them down in my hair, under my armpits,
inside my ears—din fact everywhere. My feet
and ankles were by this time covered with the
most dreadful sores, the scars of which I a to
this day.

At the village where we halted I bought a few eggs,

a pumpkin and some cucumbers, and the duwa gave me
a fowl, for which I paid him eight annas. The after-
noon and evening were quite fine, but I was too tired

1 The Mishmee Hills, by T. T. Cooper.

OF LEECHES 221

to do any work, and lay down, though jungle fowl were
calling from the thickets. At dusk I heard the low,
plaintive cry of a nightjar.

September 25th.—Minimum 69°1°F. Aneasy up-and- ,
down march, the country much more open than hitherto,
covered with tall grass twelve feet high and thickets
of scrub, There was little jungle, and in consequence
fewer leeches, though the path was as muddy and
slippery as usual. Weather showery and close, the
rain driving the sand-flies into the huts at night and
making life miserable.

In the afternoon we crossed a fair-sized stream, the
Ta hka, another tributary of the Nam Tisang, by canoe,
to the village of Kumlao. Just here the scenery was
very pretty, several villages half hidden amongst palms—
and clumps of bamboo being scattered along the gently
sloping grassy banks of the river, where homely
buffaloes grazed. I had expected to meet Mr Barnard,'
the Civil Officer of Kawnglu, here, but to my disappoint-
ment there was no sign of him.

As soon as I got in I helped myself to a packet of
fermenting rice tied up in a banana leaf—there was a
tub full of them in the hut—and ate it. The curious,
sticky mass with its musty alcoholic flavour restored me,
but at the end of my diary for the day I find this entry :
“It will be a struggle to get through, but I am at nies
sleeping fairly well.”

September 26th.—Minimum 70°8° F, The entry in
my diary at seven-thirty a.m. is:

‘Pouring rain in the night and still continues. This
will make the path terrible for our last march before

* Mr J. T. O. Barnard, C.1.E., now Deputy Commissioner, Fort
Hertz.

229 INFINITE TORMENT

the plain is reached; I scarcely feel as though I could
do it.”

It rained all day, and not caring to halt in such
weather, we marched steadily from nine-fifteen a.m. till
four-fifteen P.M.

Just above the village we came upon a magnificent
clump of bamboos, about sixty feet high, the largest of '
them eighteen inches in girth at a height of two feet
from the ground. There were nearly a hundred stems
in the clump, springing up close together and gradu- .
ally spreading out above till they finally drooped over
in graceful Prince of Wales’ feathers.

This was our last hilly march; we even crossed a
watershed, but the ascent was so gradual that we
scarcely noticed:it, though the descent was steeper
and more continuous. Down, down, down to the plains,
crossing torrent after torrent of chocolate-red frothing
water, now knee-deep, now waist-deep, till once I was
nearly swept off my feet.

The climax in leeches was reached this day. From
all directions they seemed to be looping inevitably
towards us. Every leaf of every tree seemed to
harbour one of those blind mouths, standing on end and
at full stretch feeling for its victim; they lurked in
streams, on the trees overhead and amongst the under-
growth, and. took their toll in blood.

The easiest way to get rid of a leech is to drop salt
on it; the pressure set up through its porous skin soon
sucks it inside out practically.

But one does not as a rule carry a salt-cellar 1 in one’s
pocket.

The natives, bare from the soles of their feet to half-
way up their thighs, and from the crowns of their heads

OF LEECHES 223

to their waists, were better off than I was. For they
could get at their tormentors immediately, and perceive
them before they did much harm. You would see one
stop, draw his dah and shave the blood-sucker off his
leg as with a razor; or seat himself and deliberately
spit betel he had been chewing on to it, which was
almost as effective as salt in making him relax his
hold.

But for poor little Maru there was no cure, save that
of stopping to pick them off from time to time. Even
the baboon, who had lain rather pianissimo the last few
days, was troubled, though he took care never to walk.

Presently we emerged from the jungle on to another
grassy knoll, where stood some huts, and there before
us fluttering in the breeze was a small Union Jack!
How I blessed that flag!

While I was changing my sodden clothes Mr J. T. O.
Barnard, whose name and fame are written across
the North-East Frontier from the Hukong valley to
the Ahkyang, came over from the hut where he was
inquiring into village cases, and invited me over to a
substantial tea, to which I did full justice.

Mr Barnard was on his way to Fort Hertz, and
luckily had halted here for a day, enabling me to over-
take him; otherwise I sometimes wonder whether,
without the food he gave me, I should have been able
to struggle over the last two marches.

September 27th.—Minimum 70°8° F, I got up while
it was dark as the sand-flies were giving me a bad time
and went across to Barnard’s hut for breakfast.

Maru had not turned up the previous night, and
though I had sent a man back to look for him, no trace
of the poor little pup could be found. As he had not

224 INFINITE TORMENT

arrived when we started at eight o’clock, I asked Barnard
to tell the village headman to look out for him. He
turned up all right, and Barnard found him in the
village on his way back to Kawnglu, and took him along
with him. He was quite well apparently, but died
suddenly on the march a few days later.

Thus passed away my brave little pup, who had never
uttered a sound of complaint all through the long march,
in spite of manifold discomforts. I was sorry he had
come so near Fort Hertz only to be lost at the last
moment. — |

We were still in the jungle, but it was thinning out.
We passed numbers of magnificent Ficus trees, and
ferrying across the Ti hka, a considerable stream flowing
direct to the Mali hka, reached the last Duleng village,
situated on a broad, grassy mound. Outside their long,
low huts women sat on the ground weaving cloth, the
warp stretched over the toes and kept taut by a band
passing round the waist. Others were winnowing rice
with large fans made of palm leaf, or stamping paddy
in wooden mortars.

We sat down on the knoll for a rest; and there just
below us spread the broad, flat valley a the Mali hka,
the plains at last, covered with palm-trees as it seemed
in the mist. Here and there a low mound stuck upout ~
of the grey-green sea, otherwise the valley spread away
level to the horizon.

Then we plunged knee-deep into a stream, and
following it up for a mile, tramped through mud to the
last low pass.

A gibbon leaped lightly across the path, but I seaiecaly
noticed him; a gay Kaleage pheasant ran into a thicket,
but I would not be beguiled. We slipped and slithered

(ieeddare. Esq:

Photo by)

A DULENG GIRL GINNING COTTON.

The seeds are passed between wooden rollers, which take off the cotton hair and leave the seeds.

| OF LEECHES 226

down the slope, past a few paddy-fields, and quite
suddenly emerged on to the bank of a big river.

It was the Mali hka!

The western branch of the Irrawaddy is here, 150
miles above the confluence, a fine river in full flood,
about. 200 yards in breadth, running swiftly but
smoothly in mid-stream. The water was a dull
greyish-brown in colour, carrying much mud, tempera-
ture 69°8° F., or 6°6° warmer than the 7Nmai hka!

Ferrying across in canoes, we reached the Shan
village of Nong-hkai on the edge of the plain, about
1200 feet above sea-level, and found everything
suddenly changed—vegetation, crops, people.

September 28th.—Minimum 71°3° F. A fine drizzle
was falling when we got up in the dark at four-thirty
for the last march, hoping to arrive for ten o’clock
breakfast.

Starting at six in dismal weather, we splashed
through mud, waded streams, lost our way in the
paddy-fields, and presently found ourselves in the
large village of Langtao. Yellow-robed priests were
just starting out in procession with begging bowls
to collect the day’s food from the pious Buddhist
villagers, and the sweet-toned notes of a Burmese
spinning gong, carried by a small acolyte, vibrated
through the air. Close by stood a row of Shan
women. Their dress—a long, close-fitting blue /one-gyi
and jacket trimmed with red, with glossy black hair
piled up on top of the head—was most picturesque.
As the silent procession passed, with downcast eyes,
they emptied their offerings of boiled rice from the
leaves they carried into the bowls.

It almost gave one a shock to see that some of the

226 INFINITE TORMENT

black piles of hair were fastened on heads covered
with white hair! Well, there was no ie
they were quite frank about it.

And now the long tramp of twelve miles across ihe
plain which was something like Wicken Fen without
the flowers, and is evidently an ancient lake bed.

Several very prominent river terraces, one of which
is about eighty feet high, traverse the plain in various
directions. Away to the east, eight miles distant,
flows the Mali hka, but the whole horizon was
wrapped in cloud, and nothing but the pale sapane
of mountains was visible.

It was a cold, cheerless tramp. We were soaked
to the skin, and I lagged behind dreadfully. But
about half-way we met two natives leading a. pony
for Barnard and a mule for me, sent out for us with
a note of welcome from the Deputy Commissioner,
and now we got along faster.

Floundering across streams, up to the girths in
mud and water, we at length saw the ridge on which
Fort Hertz is built. Now we reached a village, and
had to wade across a considerably swollen stream,
beyond which we caught sight of the Union Jack
flying outside the Deputy Commissioner’s bungalow.
Climbing the steep side of the terrace overlooking the
paddy-land, we dismounted at Fort Hertz.

We were welcomed by Mr W. A. Hertz, C.S.L.,
the Deputy Commissioner, whose guest I became from
that moment for two months, and after a clean up
and change I sat down to a sumptuous breakfast,
followed about an hour later, for we arrived late, by
an equally sumptuous tea.

In the ine Hertz gave a station dinner, and we

OF LEECHES q27

foregathered five strong—Hertz, Barnard, Captain
Burd the Battalion Commandant, Dr Brooks, the Civil
Surgeon, and myself. |

We heard little war news, for the telegraph line
had been destroyed—not by the Germans, but by the
weather. We learnt, however, that the great blockade
had begun, and that a censorship of unprecedented
discretion was being maintained.

And yet I suppose we five Britons, on that wet
September night in the remotest post on the Burma
frontier, knew as much of what was going on as the
fighting men in France. The difficulty was to visualise
the great change that had come, and was to come,
over the world we knew.

September 29th.—Minimum 69°9° F., Maximum 8 3°2°
F, There is one entry in my diary under this date.
“‘Fever to-day. ‘Temperature in middle of day 103:2°.
After tea I went to bed under the doctor’s orders.”

Except for a few desultory pages, written at odd
moments during convalescence, there is no further
entry in my diary till 22nd November.

I was ill for six weeks, during which time the
Deputy Commissioner and the doctor did everything
possible for me, and thanks to them I was able to
start for Myitkyina, in the doctor’s company, on
30th November.

CHAPTER XV

THE PLAINS

HE romantic history of Hkamti Long may
yet be outshone by its future, but for the
moment we are concerned rather with the

past.

Briefly, Hkamti Long* is a mountain-girt plain,
1200 miles up the Irrawaddy, yet only 1200 feet
above sea-level. It lies on the west bank of the
Mali hka (or western branch of the Irrawaddy), and
covers an area of nearly 300 square miles—35 miles
from north to south by ro from east to west, at its
longest and broadest. The greater part of the plain
is covered with tall grass and scrub, or with jungle,
only the northern end being cultivated. |

At the extreme end of a tongue-shaped terrace
which juts out northwards into the plain from the
western foot-hills, and drops steeply to a small river
flowing sixty feet below, stands the British post of
Fort Hertz. The Shan village of Putao (from which
the post formerly took its name) is two miles away
to the north, on the flat paddy-land by the Nam Palak.

This terrace, or natural embankment, is about
600 yards wide, and across the tongue tip, where
stand the military police lines, is a deep dyke and
rampart, long since overgrown with thick jungle. To

1 Hkamti Long, the Shan name for the plain, means literally Great
Gold Land.

228

THE. PLAINS 229
the south beyond the court-house, where the terrace
is smothered beneath high grass and jungle, are many
grave mounds,

Mark then this dyke, at the end of the terrace, and
these graves in ominous array; for it may be that the
terrace, deserted when the British first came to Putao,
had its defenders in the great days of the Shan —
invasion.

The northern end of the plain, beyond the post, is
cultivated, and there is much grassland where herds |
of cattle and buffalo graze between swift-flowing
streams. Hedges of orange-flowered Lantana, prickly
Euphorbia and golden sunflowers envelop the villages,
which are full of trees such as sacred peepuls, sago
palms, cabbage palms, lemon-trees and pumelos, with
clumps of bamboo and patches of banana, from
amongst which peep grass-thatched huts.

To the south stretches a broad plateau some fifty or
sixty feet above the level of the paddy-land, covered
with high grass and scattered shrubs, flanked by jungle.

Standing aloof down in the paddy-fields like derelicts
are clusters of ancient bell-shaped pagodas, made of
sun-dried brick. Now they are overgrown with flowers —
and bushes, and are fast falling to ruin.

There is perhaps no more lovely experience on earth
than to awaken slowly to life after a long illness, much
of which was a dark blank, with vague shadows projected
on it from time to time; to see again the blue sky
overhead, the golden paddy-fields, green forests and
distant snow-clad mountains; to wake in the radiant
dawn at the cry of gibbons shrilly calling from the
jungle, when the mist hangs over the river and the first
rays of the rising sun are sparkling across the blue

230 THE PLAINS

mountain-tops; to hear the birds whistling and trill-
ing and the silver-throated gong vibrating in the
monastery. A vast peace seems to have enfolded the
whole world in its embrace. You tread on air with
winged feet, and sing, nay shout, for the very joy of
living. Every leaf and flower, every bird and beast,
every cloud in the sky, is revealed as an object of
beauty, welling life and love. Happy the man to whom
such revelation is permitted.

Therefore shall I ever remember with gratitude
those convalescent days at the end of November in
Fort Hertz, when, having emerged from the Valley of
Death, I walked a little farther, and grew a little
stronger each day.

From the apex of the tongue, beyond the military
police lines, where, as stated, the ridge falls steeply to
the plain, you look northwards across a fertile country
dotted with clumps of slender palms spreading out their
great fan-shaped leaves, and of graceful bamboos,
clasped by a semicircle of mountains. Immediately
to east and west rise high parallel ranges, ridge
beyond ridge, all cut up and smoothed off by flowing
water, and covered with green jungle, looking in the
distance like velvet; at their feet nestle low rolling
hills merging into the plain. But straight ahead,
beyond the sparkling Nam Palak, which winds at our
feet, beyond the thatched spire of the village monastery,
beyond the betel palms and sacred fig-trees, and the
grey-green middle distance, there lifts itself up proudly
above the early morning mists the sentinel range of
Tibet, all white with snow. ‘That graceful, rounded
peak visible in the north-east, called Noi Matoi, is over
15,000 feet.

THE PLAINS 231

At sunset jungle and grassland are straightway
drenched with dew. The tops of the eastern ranges
turn crimson, changing to violet in the shadow below,
but the snows of the Tibet frontier still gleam in the
gathering darkness.

Out of the dusk a bat flits into the luminous western
sky like an evil spirit, and a moment later is swallowed
up in the gloom. An owl follows, flapping noiselessly
across the compound, and is lost amongst the trees.
A fire-fly glimmers for a minute and is gone; then one
by one the stars peer down on us from the darkening
sky.

So creatures dimly seen pass and repass before us as
we watch, presently to go out of our lives into the
mysterious beyond whence they started. Night has
come.

At dawn long silver threads and whisps of cloud
press closely against the blue mountain-tops, which
appear floating on an ocean of milk-white mist.
Presently the sun, rushing up, begins to break through,
and the drenched grass sparkles with diamond dew-
drops. Now gibbons begin to hoot in the hills, and
their glad voice is taken up by all the birds of the
forest, warbling their praise at the coming of another
day.

It is impossible to walk over the green fields by
the Nam Palak without thinking of home. Here in
the ditches are familiar catmint and buttercups, in the
hedges white convolvulus and fragrant oleaster; there
are golden cornfields beyond—only it is paddy, and the
grazing herd whence arises the ding-dong of bells
happen to be buffaloes.

Nevertheless, if the vision of England is dispelled by

232 THE PLAINS

the sweet-scented lemon-trees laden with flowers and
fruit at the same time, and by the palms and clumps of
bamboo outlined against the evening sky, yet we might
well believe ourselves back in Burma—that is to say,
Burma proper—2o0o miles south of where we stand.

Here in the midst of the wilderness—for similar
country to that which we have just crossed lies to.
north, west and south, and must be traversed ere
we shall see sunny Burma again—here are the same
people, the same crops, the same trees and flowers
that we meet with on the banks of the Irrawaddy
below the confluence.

Isolated, surrounded by trackless mountains and by
wild tribes—Hkanungs, Hkakus, Dulengs—this outlier
of the once mighty Tai race which had spread from
Tibet to the China Sea and founded powerful kingdoms
in Yun-nan, Burma, Assam and Siam, the last of which,
shorn of power, alone survives to-day, lies dying at
the sources of the western Irrawaddy !

What a pitiful tragedy—to have journeyed back to
die near the old home their ancesters left when
they went forth to conquer southern Asia, unknown
centuries ago!

For the Hkamtis are slowly disappearing. The
strongest long ago emigrated to Assam, and the
degraded remnant, rotted with opium, ruined by slave
dealing, preyed upon by the virile Kachins, are dying
out.
How is it that they have not long ago been
blotted off the plain by the Kachins? Because they
are, in the language of the hill-men, “the fire that
keeps the Kachins warm.” In other words, the raiders
batten on them. Every year when the crops are ripe

A HAMMOCK BRIDGE AND THE CANE BRIDGE OVER THE NGAWCHANG RIVER.

The bridge is made entirely of climbing palm (rattan cane), and is slung between trees on
either bank.

.
™
-
.
~
.
=

THE PLAINS 233

the poor Kachins come down from their hills and billet
themselves on the indolent Shans for a month or two,
and eat their fill; and when the time comes for them
to depart they take with them a few baskets of rice
or a few pigs, or poultry or cattle, even a girl or two—
anything, in fact, for which they have a fancy.

Between host and parasite the utmost friendliness
prevails, and the transactions are marked by profound
peace, for though the Shans loathe the Kachins, their
loathing is tempered by a wholesome fear.

In return—for the transaction is not entirely one-
sided, and, to borrow a term from biology, might be
cited as an example of commensalism, a living together
for mutual benefit—in return the Kachins assist the
Shans in their eternal intertribal feuds.

Thus one tribe of Kachins will be parasitic in one
Shan state, or in one village, another tribe in another;
and if those states or villages are at enmity, as is often
the case, the parasitic Kachins espouse the cause of
their respective hosts, and fight their battles for them;
which is as bad for the Kachins as it is for the Shans.
But perhaps the Kachins do not really fight each other |
—more likely each party in turn wreaks venegance on
the village indicated by its hosts, so that everybody is
paid full value, and all live happily ever after—except
the Shans.

They are a house divided against itself, and in this
wise cannot stand.

Since the British came to Hkamti Long this amiable
relationship has ceased, and the Kachin is no longer
permitted to act in a fiduciary capacity for his trusty
Shans. Slavery has also been gradually abolished,
and the isolation of the Hkamtis brought to an end

234 THE PLAINS

by the opening of a mule-road between the railhead
in Upper Burma and Hkamti Long, 200 miles distant.
Thus the poorest man may safely travel through the
Kachin country to the bazaars of Myitkyina, without
fear of being captured and sold into slavery.

It is a notable fact that when the British came to
Putao in 1913-1914 one Chinese and five Indian slaves
were found, and the Chinese muleteers with the party
at once clubbed together and bought out their fellow-
countryman !

There is more glory and tragedy in the age-long
history of the Tai race than of that in any other people
of south-east Asia. The tale of their migrations and
dissensions, their struggles and successes, and the rise
and eclipse, one by one, of the great kingdoms they
founded—Nan-chao in Yun-nan (the modern Ta-li-fu),
conquered by Kublai Khan in the thirteenth century,
Pong bled by the Burmans, finally conquered and
sacked by the Kachins as recently as the nineteenth
century, and the great Ahom power in Assam, which
after six centuries of rule, waging victorious war
against the Moguls and others, was ruined by civil
war and finally overthrown by the Burmese, in whose
train followed such chaos that they were speedily
replaced by the neighbouring British power in India—
all this seems incredible to anyone who knows only
their descendants to-day. For the peaceful, kind-
hearted Shans of Upper Burma and western Yun-nan,
the indolent Siamese and the lazy, opium-sodden
Hkamtis are all that remain of the once merciless and
mighty Tai!

The Shans came to Hkamti via the Hukong valley
—that is, the Upper Chindwin—from the kingdom of

THE PLAINS 235

Pong, which is the Mogoung district of Upper Burma.
They found the fertile plain occupied by Tibetan tribes,*
and after their struggles in the jungle they were sad.
Then their leader prayed that if they were destined to
occupy the fertile plain they had found, might they be
given a sign; might it snow heavily on the mountains,
and block all the passes, so that no help could reach
the trapped inhabitants of the plain. And it snowed
heavily, and blocked the passes, and the Tibetans were
driven back and slaughtered by the Shans, as the
numerous grave mounds testify. (But there are some
who say that these mounds date from a dreadful pesti-
lence and famine which visited the plain.)

This, however, is legendary, for no written records
of Hkamti Long have been discovered. If there is any
truth in the story, these things must have happened
many centuries ago, for later the Kachins (of whom no
_ mention is made in the legend) grew sufficiently power-
ful to advance in turn down the Hukong valley and
threaten the kingdom of Pong. But the latter, grow-
ing stronger again, drove the Kachins back eastwards
towards the Mali river, though not far enough to
re-establish communication with their brethren on the
Hkamti plain; and it was not till much later that the
Kachins completed the ruin of exhausted Pong. The
Kachins who were driven east gave origin to the Lashis
and Marus of the ’Nmai valley.

Thus it comes about that we find this outlier of
Shans at Hkamti encysted amongst the Kachin tribes,

1 There are still a few Tibetan villages in British territory at the
sources of the Irrawaddy.

2 Mr J. T. O. Barnard, however, informs me that the snow tradition
is of much more ancient origin.

236 THE PLAINS

dwindling in numbers as the latter increase. Isolated
they truly were, for no man dared leave the plain—did
he do so, he was soon captured and sold into slavery
by the Kachins.

Even after their isolation the best of the Shans
migrated, for it seems certain that the people who came
to Assam over the Patkoi range at the end of the
eighteenth century, though simply referred to as
Hkamtis, were Shans, and not Tibetan tribes.

In 1794 these people took Sadiya, assisting the effete
Ahom dynasty to its downfall; and in 1835 there was
a fresh immigration of Hkamtis into Assam. A few
years later, being dissatisfied with the British, who had
released their slaves, they rose and attacked Sadiya
again, but after the inevitable humiliation which eventu-
ally overtook them for this brief triumph, they were
scattered, and were scarcely prominent in Assam again.

Cooper,' however, writing about 1870, speaks very
highly of their descendants who, living in the neigh-
bourhood of Sadiya, formed a screen between British
territory and the warlike Mishmis.

Those who were left behind, the weakest, the less
enterprising, the most contented, are to-day the sorry
‘remnant of a people who fought their way up the
Hukong valley to the open plains beyond.

Such in brief is the history of the Hkamtis—what is
known of them.

The days when they were great hunters and fighters
are gone, never to return. About the year 1860, in
an evil moment, a Buddhist priest came from Burma
and converted the Shans of the Hukong valley to
Buddhism, and they forsook hunting and fighting,

1 The Mishmee Hiils, by 'T. T. Cooper. ,

THE PLAINS 220
being forbidden to take life; and the Hkamti Shans
did likewise.

Therefore we find many pagodas, all overgrown with
trees, at Putao, some on the outskirts of the villages,
others standing aloof in the paddy-fields.

It is wonderful, after weeks of marching in the dark,
dismal jungles, hearing nothing but the roar of torrents
and the everlasting drip, drip of the rain, to emerge
suddenly on to the broad plain and hear again the
silver-toned gong of the yellow-robed priests.

As yet, however, the Hkamtis are not very
thoroughly converted. True, they conform outwardly
to the doctrines of Buddhism—they do the things
which those who believe do, and leave undone some
of the things which those who believe do not do; but
deep down in their hearts they know that the nats—
the invisible spirits of the mountain and forest—attend
them capriciously, as they attended their grandfathers
before them. They practise Buddhism; but they do
-not understand. There are pagodas and chaungs—
priests’? houses—in the peaceful palm groves, where
the old priests still teach the village boys—not how to
succeed in the difficult battle of life, but the doctrine
from the Pali script. It is a beautiful story; but it is
difficult, and the Shans, who are timid children of the
forest, know that the za¢s still live in the old grove
where the snaky-rooted Ficus tree stands, and in
the singing stream hard by, and on the distant
mountain.

So they worship the Great Sawbwa mountain and
sacrifice a buffalo to it every year, and even when dedi-
cating a pagoda the ceremony is witnessed by such ats
as Wé-Son-Vari, the zat of the earth, and by Ma-Da-Ri,

238 THE PLAINS

the nat of literature, as inscriptions in the pagodas
themselves testify.

But the blighting influence of the peaceful Buddhist
religion has done its work. No longer able to hunt
and fight, the men have found time hang heavily on
their hands, and sitting at home in their huts watching
the guns and dahs with which long ago their ancestors
performed wondrous feats of arms, rusting on the
walls, they have found refuge in opium.

The dress of the Hkamti Shans differs considerably
from that of the southern Shans inhabiting the country
round Bhamo and Myitkyina, as well as the Shan
States proper; the latter have been influenced by
the Burmans. 3

In the early morning, to the throb of the spinning
gong, a procession of yellow-robed monks and boys,
with downcast eyes and slow step, leaves the wee
wooden monastery, and starts on its begging tour
through the village.

Then from each hut emerge the pious women storing
up merit with their offerings of rice, which they tip
silently into big bowls borne by small boys. We
can see them well now—they are very dainty, in
tight skirt of dark blue cloth relieved with a few
stripes of red or brown, reaching to the bare ankles,
and close-fitting, short-sleeved jacket. Perhaps they
are proud of their neat figures, these charming little
Shan girls, for their clothes are always tight-fitting,
and the trick of edging the trim sleeves of their

dark coloured jacket with brighter red, and wearing

a low turban of white or scarlet, draws attention
to just those points they would have you look at.
Often a white wrap with coloured stripes at each

THE PLAINS 239

end is flung loosely across the breast, over the left
shoulder. 7

Like the Tibeto-Burman tribes, the ears are pierced
to hold metal tubes, but the rattan cane rings with
which the rude jungly people adorn their persons
are not worn; for the Shans have emerged from
the wood age into the metal age, and naturally
(but silently) despise their uncouth bi powerful
neighbours.

Their large huts, built entirely of bamboo matting
thatched with grass, are raised three or four feet
from the ground on a perfect forest of piles, and
entered by a ladder, or, in some cases, by an elaborate
stairway with carved posts. The front of the hut is
closed in, but from the back room you step straight
out beneath the typical Shan half-dome-shaped eave
on to an open balcony. Here the women of the
household sit together gossiping, smoking and weaving
cloth. Except in its larger size, the Hkamti hut
does not differ materially from the Shan huts seen
in Upper Burma.

In winter the village, with its palm-trees and
pagodas, its pumelo-trees laden with golden fruit
nearly as big as a man’s head, its gardens hedged in
with sunflowers and Lantana, its slaves thatching huts
anew and weaving fences, is picturesque enough; but
during the rains it is a morass through which squelch
grunting pigs and fawning cattle, with a sprinkling
of clucking hens. So deep is the mud that a narrow
gangway of planks, raised six inches off the ground,
is laid down the streets, and by using this fairway
it is possible to avoid some of the quagmires, unless a
lurching buffalo, with bovine humour, pushes you into it.

240 THE PLAINS

As for the forests and mountains which enfold —

this smiling plain, it is difficult for me to convey
any adequate idea of their immensity and utter
desolation. |

To the north lie the sources of the Mali hka,
flowing in half-a-dozen big rivers down from the
snowy Lohit divide, on the other side of which is
the Lohit river, with the Mishmi Hills and Tibet
beyond.

To the west lie ranges of mountains, tier on tier,
inhabited by Singphos (who are none other than
Kachins), beyond which the waters flow down to the
Brahmaputra and the Chindwin. |

To the south lies the unexplored country between |
the two branches of the Irrawaddy, known as the
“triangle.”

To the east lie the mountains we had crossed with
so much difficulty, and beyond them the wonderful
mountains of Yun-nan.

All this country is scarcely known—the few travellers
who have crossed it here and there have done so as
quickly as possible, often starving. Much of it is
known to a few frontier officers only. Yet there
are wonders hidden behind the black wall of forest,
such as the dwarf Nungs of the Taron, to the north-
east, whose huts are built in the tree-tops; the
black Marus, spearing their fish from canoes; the un-
scaled peaks of Noi Matoi, Daphla Bum and many
other snow-capped giants; unexplored rivers, and the
passes into Tibet—oh! wonders for the explorer and
naturalist.

Big game is said to abound in the mountains, though
I had found the sodden jungles apparently devoid of

‘pueq ay} astidutod suinip pute s[equidyj = ‘syatyd 10 Spmganvs UeYS df} TAO pot] sejjeiquin yjts dy} s10N

“N1IVTIq ILNVMH AHL NO TIVAILSH}Y SNOTDITAY V
‘Ds pawuosyT “MN “W ‘d| [Aq cqzoyg

THE PLAINS 241
life. ‘Tiger, rhino, sambur, elephant, bison, durhal,
pig are all spoken of—Prince Henry met with tiger,
two horned rhinoceros, and antelope on the Assam
ranges to the west, and British officers have told me
of many tracks on the path between Fort Hertz and
Myitkyina. Musk deer and takin are common, so
it is said, on the mountain ranges to the north, and
barking deer came right into Fort Hertz.

But the reader must not imagine that Hkamti Long
is a sportsman’s paradise—he certainly will not if he
has followed me closely.

The jungle is all but impassable, the climate very
bad. There is no food, transport is often unobtainable,
and there are all the discomforts of a hot, wet country
to contend with—leeches, ticks, sand-flies and many
more.

However, there is a certain amount of snipe and
duck shooting on the open plain, imperial pigeon in
the forest, and jungle fowl and pheasants in the long
grass round the fringe of the jungle; while in the
Mali hka is to be had some of the best mahseer
fishing in India, fish up to eighty pounds in weight
having been taken in its waters.

One evening I walked out to see some pagodas,
near Putao village—they stood alone in the paddy-
fields, shaded by palm-trees, green islands in a golden
sea.

Entering the biggest through a narrow tunnel,

1 The record for mahseer taken at Fort Hertz, an eighty-six-
pound fish, belongs to Mr Langley of the P.W.D. But the most
successful fisherman is probably Mr P. M. R. Leonard, of the
Frontier Service, who has captured many big fish from fifty to
seventy pounds in weight.

242 THE PLAINS

the sides of which were decorated with small mural
paintings, I found myself in a circular brick vault
tapering up to a pointed dome crowned by a lotus

bud. Most of the space was taken up by a life-—

size recumbent figure of Buddha in alabaster, which
had once been covered with gold leaf. A spiral of
writing in Shan characters? encircled the narrowing
dome, and just below was a frieze composed of fifty-
five niches, each containing a tiny gilt image of Buddha
only an inch high.

In another pagoda was a seated figure of Buddha,
round the pedestal of which were small paintings on
plaster, covered with glass, of Bodhisattwas in grey
monk’s garb with legs crossed in the orthodox attitude
of meditation, each with a palm-leaf fan; their faces
were curiously Chinese in expression.

From the ordered pagodas and trim gravel paths
bordered with beds of Michaelmas daisies and shrubs
I wandered out into the wildness of the paddy-fields,
along the ditches of which grew a tall grass whose
hard grey ‘seeds’? are much prized by some of
the jungle natives, as beads for trimming their bags.

The pagodas of the farther cluster were smaller,
and contained, in some cases, dozens of small Buddhas,
arranged round a cone-shaped pillar, on which one
might gaze through small openings in the outer wall
facing north, south, east and west.

1 There are several totally different Shan scripts.

2 Coix Lachryma (Job’s tears), cultivated for food in “many parts
of south-east Asia, more particularly in Assam. At the base of jeach
inflorescence is a hard, polished, grey, pear-shaped body, resembling

a seed. ‘This is really the bract of the inflorescence, and belongs to.

several spikelets, not to a single flower.

THE PLAINS 243

By the end of November I was fit to start again.
The doctor was going down to Myitkyina on leave,

_ so [ accompanied him, abandoning all idea of lengthen-

ing the journey by crossing into Assam.

The Deputy Commissioner lent me a mule to ride.
For transport we had Nung porters, and two elephants,
hired from one of the Shan sawbwas, or chiefs, who
keep a certain number of these beasts.

On 28th November the doctor started, and two
days later I followed. As usual, a heavy white pall
of mist lay over the plain in the early morning, but
up on the ridge we were almost clear of it—we could
see blue sky overhead through the thin veil—till it
gave a heave as the sun rose. |

Then it was slowly rent aside and rolled up into

puffs which clung to the mountains, and disappeared

mysteriously, and the whole plain was flashing and
smiling in the glorious sunshine. |

So I bade farewell to Mr Hertz, and to Hkamti
Long, where | had been so long, and turned my face
southwards.

CHAPTER XVI

THROUGH THE KACHIN HILLS

stream, we passed between gardens where pink

roses and scarlet Canna were jumbled up with
climbing marrows, pumelo-trees and papaws, crossed _
a strip of low-lying sand freckled with scrub jungle,
and emerged on to the open plain. é

How different it looked to the swamp we had
floundered through, beneath dripping grey skies, two
months back! Now the grass, brown and shrivelled,
was burning in many places close to the path; the
smoke and crackling bushes frightened my mule, but
the elephants took no notice of them.

Dropping down the steep slope to the lower terrace,
we crossed a belt of jungle, where I noticed several
screw pines. ‘These have great bayonet-shaped leaves —
arranged in close spirals at the summit of a palm-like
stem, giving a most curious effect, as though a giant
hand had tried to wring the plant’s head off !

And so we came to the village of Langtao, where
I found the doctor keeping vigil by the broad Nam
Lang, waiting for the homing duck to fly over. It
was’a beautiful evening, the clean-cut mountains a
deep purple against an orange sky; and presently a
wedge of duck winging across, one fell to the doctor’s
gun.

Next day we crossed the Nam Lang, a clear, swift

244

Pe sven, the Nam Palak, now quite a shallow

THROUGH THE KACHIN HILLS 245

stream ninety yards broad, by a trestle bridge, and
turning our faces to the south, plunged into the
jungle, where many streams, now mere trickles, but
in summer yelling torrents, flow down to the Nam
Lang. Up the Nam Lang lies one of the three known
routes from Hkamti to Assam.

At midday we left the last Shan village behind and
entered the Kachin hills. Immediately the country
became more undulating, and by evening we had
reached the first Kachin village, built on a high bluff
overlooking a flat valley, across which, a mile or two
distant, was a long line of cliffs several hundred feet
high. At the foot of these cliffs we could hear a
river rumbling along, but it was not the Mali hka;
many days were to pass before we would actually see
the Mali, though we were never very far away from
it.

The Kachins are animists, pure and simple, and buy
off the evil zats who, together with good zats, inhabit
the jungle, by setting up little bamboo tables outside
their villages on which food is placed for the hungry
spirits to help themselves. At the entrance to every
village are also nat trees, inhabited by spirits; they
are nearly always fine old Ficus trees, often covering
a great area by means of their prop roots, and, like
the village bamboo clumps, are carefully preserved.

In the middle of the village are two big wooden
beams about a dozen feet long, stuck in the ground
and crossed so as to make a framework something
like a multiplication sign. To this frame sacrificial
buffaloes are lashed before being beheaded; and to
the great central supporting pillar which stands out
so prominently in the front of the huge hut are

246 THROUGH THE KACHIN HILLS

nailed the skulls of buffaloes and pigs slain at every
_natgalore. |

These huts are quite like the Maru huts, but even
bigger. I generally slept inside the porch of one,
having no tent, and the poultry roosting in baskets
hung beneath the low-pitched eaves, or the pigs
grunting and scratching themselves against the piles
(happily fenced in all round), did not suffer me to
oversleep myself.

Drinking our early morning tea at five a.m. on 2nd

December, while it was. still quite dark, we listened
to the heavy dew dripping like rain from the trees
and shivered, for the temperature at this hour was
but wos’ F.
Immediately we descended into the valley, and
fording the river already noticed—the Nam Yak, here
fifty yards wide—followed up the stony bed of a
watercourse, presently to enter what has been
picturesquely called the conglomerate na/la. |

High cliffs of sand and boulder gravel hidden
beneath a mosaic of velvety leaves rose precipitously
on either hand as the alla narrowed. The stream
dashed this way and that, swinging round bend after
bend, and ahead one could see the big trees which
crowned the cliff almost touching each other.

At this hour a faint mist still hung over the gorge,
but presently shafts of sunlight came slinking between
the trees and glanced on the leaves of some strange
tropic plant far above. We were now completely
hemmed in by these fantastic cliffs of gravel and red-
stained sand, crushed so tightly together as to have
become almost solid rock. Here and there a silver
thread of water leapt from above and frayed out into

THROUGH THE KACHIN HILLS 247

tassels. It seemed almost absurd to believe that so
small a stream could have carved out this profound
gorge, but it was now the dry season, and from the
way the cliffs had been undercut, one could plainly
see that during the rains a powerful torrent must fill
the bed of the nalla,

Most wonderful of all was the rich mosaic of foliage,
interspersed with bunches of violet and lemon-yellow
Gesnerads,: pale begonias with elephant’s-ear leaves,
and delicate maiden-hair fern, which paved the walls;
it was a paradise for the shade-loving plants, and they
revelled in the damp gloom.

At last we left the na//a and climbing up, up through
the forest till we were more than a 1000 feet
above the stream, presently looked down on the valley
of the Mali hka and across to the blue mountains
beyond.

From this ridge we descended again to the Nam Yak,
flowing through the forest, which, bordered by strips
of blazing white sand, came down to the water’s edge ;
and crossing it several times camped finally on the right
bank. Strapping Dipterocarp trees with glistening
white trunks bearing heavy crowns of foliage striped
the dark green forest; many were draped with ample
folds of creepers, and the showy pale violet trumpet
flowers of Thunbergia grandiflora were often seen.

We camped on a sandbank just above the river,
putting up bamboo shelters roofed with tarpaulins, or
banana leaves and grass; but the Nung porters scraped
hollows in the sand, animal fashion, and slept by their
fires in the open, merely sticking up a few fan-shaped
palm leaves to keep off the wind. Long-haired, dirty
and unclad—they possess only a hempen towel and

248 THROUGH THE KACHIN HILLS—

jacket apiece, with a blanket for night use—these poor
wild jungle folk are hardy and cheerful.

December 3rd.—Minimum temperature 51 °F, A thick
cloak of mist swaddled the river, and the air was raw
at six o’clock; but the sun coming through, the ther-
mometer stood at 70° F, in the shade by the middle of
the afternoon.

The day’s march was a short one, about eight miles
to a P.W.D. bungalow situated on the bank of a river,
the Wot hka, in the midst of the forest.

We passed through two Kachin villages, where stood
trees laden with huge limes, besides orange-trees, whose
good-looking fruits were, however, a delusion, the skins
being very thick and full of oil; the flavour was sweet,
and there were no seeds—but neither was there any
pulp; it was all skin.

We saw a number of duck on the Wot hka, but
though the doctor spent an evening with them, he had
to be content with nothing better than a merganser.

In the afternoon I found several of our porters
searching beneath the shingle of the river bed for a
species of bug, which when captured was decapitated
between the finger-nails and dropped into a bamboo
tube. These bugs are fried in oil and eaten as a
delicacy, despite their horrible odour!

The Kachins here were dressed very similarly to the
Marus of the ’Nmai valley, the /ong-gyi being usually
dark navy blue striped with dull red—very jungly colours,
Kachin women have no excuse for keeping their husbands
waiting ; they have no hat to be set at an accurate
angle in front of the glass, and their raven hair is simply
tied in a knot on top of the head, English girls, when
sea bathing, do likewise, but have evolved something

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THROUGH THE KACHIN HILLS 249

more elaborate for everyday use. But small children
shave their heads—wisely, seeing the collection of
_ vermin harboured by adults—leaving only a small whisp
in front, perhaps a handle for angry mothers to catch
hold of.

They were not particularly affable, these Kachins, but
they tolerated us in their villages without welcoming us
inside their huts; though, as already recorded, I usually
set up my bed under the frowning eave of the porch
where the womenfolk pound rice of an evening and
weave the family clothes.

Inside, the Kachin hut closely er the Maru,

the “ maidens’ hearth,” which is the only room com-
pletely walled in on all sides, being in front.
_ The fact is, the Kachins realise they will have to give
up their thievish, domineering ways, and abandon
slavery, for even their jungles can no shea hide them
from the prying eyes of the sircar. ©

As you watch the unaccustomed white 1 men passing
through your deep forests with their elephants and
ponies and their thousands of mules, and hear the tramp
of armed men following on, Kachins, you must under-
stand that the time has at last come for you to submit
to the dominant race.

But your religion, your customs, your huts, and crops,
and women, and property will be left to you, untouched ;
only in return, and. for the privilege of admission to
the great brotherhood, you must pay a trifle towards
the maintaining of security, and supply porters to
travellers. These things you will come to do gladly
in time, and prosperity will be your lot. So speaks the
sircar.

We passed some Kachin graves this day—they are

a’)

250 THROUGH THE KACHIN HILLS 7
similar to the Maru graves already described. The
coffin, a hollowed tree trunk with a carved lid, some-
times wrapped in a cloth, stands on a circular mound ~
surrounded by a trench. Sometimes there are two _
coffins, side by side. Over them is raised a conical
thatched roof, surmounted by a tall pole. Coffin lid
and pole are rudely carved and crudely painted—there
is usually a bird perched on the summit of the pole
(for birds figure in all primitive Oriental religions
previous to Buddhism), with a couple of snakes below,
while the coffin lid terminates in a beaked dragon or
bird’s head.

If the man dies in debt the trench round the grave _
is left incomplete, an insult to the family. As soon —
as the debt is paid the trench is completed. In some ~
places we came on Maru graves extinguished under
a tall sugar loaf of thatch, fifteen feet high, with no
opening save such as made by the weather.

It must not be imagined that the coffins thus laid out
contain corpses; they contain only calcined bones, or
ashes, for the dead are burnt, with little ceremony, and
the ashes subsequently buried in season (or when the
family has accumulated the necessary funds)—it may
be several months later, at a public funeral wake. It
is the burial, not the cremation, which counts. p,

This is a great orgy, at which buffaloes are sacrificed _
and unlimited feasting and drinking indulged in. The —
ashes are then interred in the mound under the thatch
umbrella.

During the rains, or while the paddy is being cut,
no burials take place.

Many of the huts flew what looked like a publican’s
sign at the fore—a long bamboo tube ending in a flat

THROUGH THE KACHIN HILLS 25:

palm-leaf plate surrounded by a ring of similar tubes;
which was in reality a device not to attract good
drinkers, but to repel bad spirits.

As the wind caught the plate it swung to and fro,
and all the bamboo tubes did likewise, clapping and
rattling together in a way to scare any zat with an evil
conscience. |

The Kachins in some parts seem tohave been tainted
with a breath of Buddhism, for outside a few villages
were banners hung from tall poles and small mud
pagodas crowned by a bamboo spire and imitation A7i,
or umbrella, as seen in Burmese pagodas.

In one village was a magnificent fig-tree, its branches,
supported by prop roots which had dropped to the soil
from above and held fast, spreading twenty-five to
thirty feet from the central trunk, so that the. area
covered was over 300 square feet.

The villages are always perched up on the hill-tops,
with a steep descent in every direction, so that from
them we had good views of the high ranges to the
west, separating the Mali and Chindwin basins, and of
the parallel ranges in the trans-Mali country to the
east; but the country in between these main north and
south trending ranges was so cut up that spurs seemed
to run out in every direction. Travelling south,
parallel to the Mali hka, we were crossing rivers run-
ning down to it between high ridges; but often we
would go for miles along the crest of some ridge trend-
ing at right angles—that is, north and south parallel to
the main divides,

It was noticeable that the Mali receives big tributaries
from both sides, whereas the ?Nmai receives none
worth speaking of from the west. On the other

252 THROUGH THE KACHIN HILLS —

hand, no tributary of the Mali which we saw could be 7
compared with the big rivers which roar down to the y
’Nmai hka from the China frontier. ‘¥

All round us as far as the eye could reach was q
dense forest or high grass and scrub. The big elephant, —
an enormous beast from Assam, found it difficult to A
get through in places, and the mahout was sometimes —
threatened with decapitation by the branches of trees. —
However, seated on Jumbo’s neck with a foot behind ©
each ear, he guided the wise old beast skilfully, and —
the pair of them provided us with plenty of amusement, —
especially the small Hkamti animal, who always insisted
on rising while he was being loaded. 4

Bat! Bat!! Bat!!! screamed the mahout, as she :
kneeling elephant, with half his load on his back, ©
leisurely proceeded to stand up; then he would slowly
sink down again and allow the men to put some more ~
on him. In the hilly country, however, the elephants —
proved only a nuisance, moving with extreme slowness;

indeed the big animal became almost useless, so

thoroughly exhausted was he, and at one time we —
quite thought he was going to die by the wayside.

The jungle on this side seemed far less dismal, more —
pulsing with life, than did the forests across the ’Nmai; _
but this may have only been due to the season; no —
doubt the fine dry weather made all the difference, but —
we must also remember that the Mali valley is far more —
thickly populated than is the valley of the 7Nmai. .

Every day we heard parrots and monkeys screaming, ;
and often the sweet song of a thrush. Sometimes a —
golden oriole or a gay woodpecker was seen, or a

1 Baitho=sit down (Hindustani), Bat (pronounced but) is —
obviously a corruption, : ,

THROUGH THE KACHIN HILLS 253

gorgeous kingfisher would flame by, and at night we
heard the sharp bark of the muntjac. There were
plenty of sambhur about too, and the Kachins shot
_ them by night, while watching their taungya, so that
we were able to buy excellent venison. ‘There is a
little white-polled red and black water-wren commonly
met with throughout this country as well as over a
large part of China, and a big grey kingfisher, also
_ Chinese. We saw striped squirrels too, and occasion-
ally a gibbon travelling at enormous speed. I watched
one clear the track at a leap, judging his distance with
consummate accuracy.

_ When, as sometimes happens, we met big mule
convoys going north with rations, great delay ensued,
for the elephants stalked along as kings of the road,
and the opposition mules did not like the.look of them.
However, there is no room to stampede in these jungles,
and any attempt to do so makes for terrible confusion.
Some of the convoys we met contained over five hundred
mules, mostly from Yun-nan, but a few big Government
animals with their ridiculously heavy and clumsy trap-
pings. Even the war does not seem to have stimulated
the Indian Government into abandoning these obsolete
contrivances.

Mountain rice, raised on hill clearings, is the chief
Kachin crop, besides a little maize for brewing liquor.
In the villages are grown cotton, beans, cucumbers,
pumpkins, sweet potatoes, oranges, limes and tobacco.
Unlike the Shans, the Kachins do not indulge in opium,
but they all smoke. The Shans grow two kinds of
tobacco, one for smoking and another for chewing.

At sunrise on 7th December the eastern mountains
were ink lined against a rosy sky; below us mist

254 THROUGH THE KACHIN HILLS ©
filled the valley and shone like silver under the waning —
moon. We marched twelve miles through very hilly —
country, with fine views of a high, rocky range to the ~
east, probably the 7Nmai divide. a

The mountains here are composed of loose sediments t
—a friable yellow earth containing scattered pebbles
of granite, silver-grey, buff and reddish sandstones, —
grey clays with dark leaf beds, and nodules of iron ~
pyrites, all derived from the disintegration of granite
and other crystalline rocks, and have clearly been laid
down in a Jake or shallow sea or perhaps in an estuary. —
To the north the material was always coarser—con-
glomerates, gravel, and sands instead of these argillaceous
rocks, from which it may be inferred that the water
deepened southwards, and was shallower in the north. —
The Hkamti plain and much of the country to the ~
south may have been a lake, into which rivers flowed
from the north, and. the iron mines scattered through-
out these mountains probably derive their existence
from vegetable deposits. The sediments laiddown have ~
been subsequently heaved up into a series of wave-like
parallel ridges from 3000 to 5000 feet above sea-level,
and cut across by streams flowing down from east and
west.

Still farther south mica schists make up the bulk of
the ranges, these rocks dipping S.E. or E.S.E, at angles
varying from 30° to nearly go°; and in the bed of the
Mali itself are dark grey slates with quartz veins,
dipping east at about 90°. The Mali hka seems to be
merely the overflow of the Hkamti lake, long since
drained either by the river keeping open a passage
while the country was being buckled up, or by cutting
back at the head.

. ae or be heel Fh coat -
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THROUGH THE KACHIN HILLS 25;

All the villages are fairly open, the huts more or less
scattered, so that, being enclosed by forest, they are
nearly invisible till one is right into them; for they
reserve to themselves the highest hill-tops in the
neighbourhood., Thus they deny a view down on to
them from above, though occasionally looking across
a valley one may pick out patches of taungya chequer-
ing the hill-side, and glimpse the grey thatch of huts.

As to the forest, which has been described as over-
running the whole country, it is a glorious sight on
a sunny day, especially in the wide river valleys where
the laughing water is walled in with many-hued ever-
green vegetation, against which white tree trunks
stand like temple pillars supporting the turquoise dome
of heaven.

There are oaks and fig-trees in great variety, sago
palms, Palmyra and climbing palms, tree ferns and a
wealth of bamboos, many with prickly stems; Ptero-
spermum with huge shield-shaped leaves, Bauhinia, screw
pines, walnut, tree-of-heaven, Cassia, Dalbergia, Acacia
and many more Leguminose; Sterculia, Dipterocar-
paceze, tamarind; and in the valleys open areas filled
with patches of banana and elephant grass. A dense
tangle of climbers—in the sunlight, rosy convolvulus,
Thunbergia grandiflora, Lygoduim, Smilax; in the jungle,
lianas, some flattened to ribands, others like whipcord,
some smooth, others warty, or covered with knobs, or
prickles, or spurs, or roughened like the bark of an
oak, some black, some green, some yellow or brown,
tie everything together. Then there are the epiphytic
orchids, Dendrobium, Vanda and others, not yet in
flower; bird’s-nest fern, oak-leaf polypody and moss-
like ferns carpeting the tree trunks; Aroids such as

256 THROUGH THE KACHIN HILLS —
Pothos, and a few epiphytic trees as Ficus benjamina.
On damp, shady cliffs or in the forest undergrowth are
many Zingiberacez, such as Globba, Hedychium and
Cautleya; striped Gesnerads, more Aroids, and begonias
with their curious lop-sided leaves resembling an
_ elephant’s ear, by which name the plant is known.

It is the flora, not of China, but of the Indo-Malayan
region; not of the Sino-Himalayan ranges to the north
and east, such as we had found beyond the 7Nmai hka,
but of the Assam valley, and Lower Burma, of Siam
and the Straits. And the farther south we travelled
the greater the number of leafless trees which showed
up, skeletons bleaching in the sunshine.

For on the Hkamti plain there is no long dry season,
and the forest is evergreen in spite of chill winter
nights; but as we go south, we get more and more
into the region of the regular monsoons, where wet ~
and hot dry seasons alternate. During the dry season,
about March or April, just before the rains break,
many trees shed their leaves for a brief period and
burst into flower. a

Although these miles and miles of jungle appear
monotonous, yet looked closely into the monsoon forest —
is exquisite, as though peering beneath the surface,
one grew conscious of the real spirit of the forest
behind its plain exterior. The temperate forest,
changeful as a petulant child, may be admired as
a whole; it is the detail of the monsoon or tropical
forest, in its limitless diversity, that attracts. —

Thus its foliage, differing so in colour, but more in
its arrangement; how on one tree the leaves are held
out boldly at arm’s-length, vertically, as shields, owing
to the bending of the petiole where it meets the blade

THROUGH THE KACHIN HILLS 257

(Petrospermum); how leaf chains of great length and
delicacy are fashioned by one creeper which, with a
_ cunning kink of the petiole, brings all the circular
leaves ‘into line, overlapping each other like mail
armour atistolochia) ; while another spreads its long,
thin blades alternately right and left of the stem,
desperately seeking light; how this leaf is hinged in
two halves which close at night like the pages of
a book (Bauhinia); that one drawn out into a long
point that the rain may drip rapidly from its downward-
pointing apex (ficus religiosa).

There are shiny, leathery leaves, and delicate velvet
leaves, red leaves, yellow leaves, leaves of a hundred
greens, fitting into each other, overlapping each other,
embracing each other, all pushing and hustling for
light and air. It is a fairyland wherein to roam, while
every bush and tree astonishes you with some dainty
device you had not noticed before.

On 8th December we did a short march to Laza,
perched on an isolated sugar-loaf peak, with a clear
view across the Mali valley to the distant 7>Nmai divide,
and a peep through the trees to the snow-clad Zayul
range, 100 miles north.

We rested a day at Laza, where we met two officers
from Myitkyina on their way up to Fort Hertz. There
were rumours of a Kachin rising, and it was not certain
whether we should get through before the whole
country-side was up.

The shade temperature rose as high as 67° F. that
afternoon, but it was 15° colder when we rose at six
next morning, 10th December. The Mali valley was
at that hour a great lake of foaming cloud splashing up
against the dark line of mountains just visible against

a lemon-yellow sky; overhead the stars were walla
with Venus rising like a diamond.

From Laza, in the crystal atmosphere above the
miasmas of the river valley, we plunged down some
2000 feet to a torrent, and then up, up again till on the
crest of the next ridge another invisible torrent suddenly
burst into clamour, and we descended to that! So it
continued all day.

Presently from beneath a tree an emaciated, raw-
backed pony whinnied to us as we passed. Poor beast!
He would never carry his burden again—his very hours
were numbered and he had been marooned in the
jungle !

The villages hereabouts were poor, the huts small
and dilapidated, the graves with their conical thatch
roofs falling away, their trenches filled with under-
growth, so that it were easy to step into one unawares.

CHAPTER XVII

BACK TO CIVILISATION

ONG ago the Shan sawbwas of Hkamti Long
paid tribute to the kings of Burma, thereby
acknowledging them as overlords.

No doubt they were actually independent, but would,
if necessary, ask the suzerain power for assistance
against their enemies. A century ago the king of
Burma could, and would, have marched an army from
Ava to Hkamti Long if required, and thought nothing
of it.

In those days Burmese armies marched far south to
Siam, westwards over the mountains to Assam, and
eastwards into China; but with the wars between
Burma and Great Britain, and the rise of the Kachins,
who swept southwards, the Hkamti Shans became iso-
lated, and emigrating, as previously described, to Assam,
were no longer of account. There was no one to whom
they could appeal for help, and so they pined away.
The British were far too occupied with their own
affairs in Burma proper to think of going so far afield
as Hkamti Long; yet after the annexation of Upper
Burma from time to time deputations of chiefs travelled
to Bhamo, there to acknowledge British overlordship
and claim British protection. No change in the govern-
ment of Burma altered the status of these tributary
Shans, and while for thirty years the suzerain power
had been unable to help them against the growing

259

260 BACK TO CIVILISATION

oppression of the Kachins, here surely was a power
which might!

Another twenty years were, however, to pass, during
which British power was firmly consolidated in Burma
proper, before Government would move in the matter;
and then it was not Kachin oppression, but Chinese
activity, which settled the issue.

The Chinese having as the direct result of affairs in
Tibet established a comparatively powerful military
autocracy in western China, naturally looked beyond
their immediate frontier, and seeing Hkamti unoccupied,
stepped in with a view to annexation.

Here was just what they wanted—a big open plain
where paddy could be cultivated, lying on the flank of
their main line of advance into Tibet.

Their design was, however, not entirely unknown to
the Indian Government, and three separate British
expeditions were sent to Hkamti to counteract Chinese
influence before the final occupation in 1914. The
first of these expeditions took place during the cold
weather of 1910-1911."

The Kachins were not pleased at what they regarded.
as an intrusion into their fastness, and with their usual
truculence asked the British the reason for this. The
chiefs, however, brought presents, receiving others in
exchange for allowing the expedition to pass.

One chief, indeed, sent to demand how it was that
the British were passing through his territory without
first obtaining his permission. He was curtly requested
to come and see the British officer, to which he replied
that to do so he required an escort of fifty sepoys and
five hundred rupees travelling expenses !

1 Under the leadership of Mr J. T. O. Barnard, C,1.E. .

BACK TO CIVILISATION 261

This was refused, the official bluntly pointing out
that since he was travelling in his own country he
required no escort. Three hundred rupees travelling
allowance was, however, sent, and eventually this
_ haughty chief came in, bringing as presents a lump of
iron ore and an elephant’s tusk. In the symbolical
language of these unlettered tribesmen the former
signified that he, the chief, was the owner of all
the iron mines in his territory, and would brook no
interference.

On the arrival of the expedition at a certain village
the British official saw, stuck in the ground outside his
tent, a fine spear, transfixing a pumpkin, together with
a panji—that is, a sharp bamboo stake. Not very
valuable gifts, perhaps, but then the Kachins are
poor.

Puzzled, but taking these things for presents from
the village headman, the Englishman was about to
accept them when the Kachin interpreter prevented
him, saying that an insult was intended, the interpreta-
tion being as follows.

The pamji meant war. ‘The pumpkin meant that the
English thought the Kachins a worthless people, a
sentiment they bitterly resented; and the spear that
they were united against the common enemy.

Hearing this, the official asked for an explanation, at
the same time ordering the chief to remove the offend-
ing articles. But he came in person, refusing to remove
them, and offering quite a different interpretation.

The pumpkin, he said, meant that the Kachins were
a poor, simple-minded jungle folk, living on jungle roots ;
the spear that the British were a powerful, upright
people ; and the pamyi that the poor Kachins, children in

262 BACK TO CIVILISATION

the art of war, and untutored, fought with bows and
arrows. .

In the end the chief was prevailed upon to remove
the offending articles, whereupon he waxed wroth.

“You may,” he said, addressing himself to the —
British official, “pass through my country if you wish
to go to Hkamti Long. You may come back again
next year, and go backwards and forwards—my people
will not molest you. But we will never pay tribute to
the British, nor be ruled by them.”

The Kachins have at various times given a good deal
of trouble, especially during the years immediately
succeeding the annexation of Upper Burma.

It is estimated that there are at least a million
Kachins in the mountains between Assam, Upper Burma
and the China frontier, but luckily they are far from
being united, and in spite of difficulties owing to the
bitter nature of the country, Government has never
yet failed to exact summary retribution for any hostile
act of these freebooters.

However, there are still large tracts of country—
notably the “triangle,” between the 7Nmai hka and
Mali hka—where the Kachins are quite independent.
Nor is any Englishman permitted to wander into these
preserves, lest, should any untoward fate befall him,
Government should be forced to take action.

At sunrise on roth December we saw the eastern
ranges boldly outlined against a rosy sky; we were
above the mist, on which the waning moon shone
brightly, filling the valley below with a faint silvery
light.

Twelve miles were covered in yery hilly country,
with good views of a high, rocky range, devoid of

BACK TO CIVILISATION — 263

- forest, to the east. This might be the ?Nmai divide,
which is sixty miles distant as the crow flies.

The path we followed next day was better than
usual, though soft, the animals raising thick clouds of
_ dust; but a little rain would have turned it into a stiff
clay. ‘This powdery earth, derived from laterite, took
on a beautiful rich brownish gold or ochre tint in the
sunshine,

There were some fine sago palms near the villages,
and castor-oil plants up to fifteen feet high, growing
semi-wild.

There is a regular colony of Marus here—they seem
to be much worse off than the Kachins, and I bought
a fowl for a handful of beads, where the Kachins had
mulcted us to the tune of eight or twelve annas.

A prowling tiger roared defiantly close at hand
during the night, and one of the elephants distinguished
himself by gobbling up a whole basketful of yams, for
which we had to pay compensation, It is unwise to
leave anything edible or inedible in the neighbourhood
of an elephant, though ours always went out into the
jungle first and devoured whole clumps of bamboo.

Yams of various kinds were eagerly sought for and
dug up by our Nung coolies while on the march—so
perhaps it was they, and not the elephants, who were
the real culprits.

The elephants were very slow now—the endless
hills seemed to break their hearts. It was amusing to
watch them fill their trunks with saliva and spray it
over their huge bodies, or with sand, and give them-
selves a dry shampoo, to drive away the flies which
irritated them so.

When we met mule caravans coming north, as we

264 BACK TO CIVILISATION

sometimes did, there would be a stampede, the mules
sidling up towards the giants, with their ears at the
alert, and then passing them with a rush.

On the 12th the rocks began to change their
character, mica schists replacing the usual sandstones
and clays. These schists were much crumpled, and
stood nearly vertical; but they gave origin to the same
reddish earth and stiff clay as the others had done.

Now the country began to open out more, the
mountains to spread apart and grow flatter; looking
south from a high ridge we saw the hills beginning to
fade away into plains.

Each day our order of march was the same. We
got up at five, while it was still quite dark, with wet
mists lying in the valley and brilliant starlight over-
head; had breakfast at six, and started at half-past
seven. After four hours on the road we would halt
by a village or at some wayside stream for lunch;
then, pursuing our way till about three in the after-
noon, reach another village, thus completing the day’s
allotted stage. }

On the 13th, passing through Bumpat and other
Maru villages, we camped in an abandoned faungya,
which was lying fallow, where wastrel plants of cotton
and Capsium, with gaudy yellow and magenta coxcombs,
had sprung up amongst a wilderness of weeds.

The Marus in these parts were better off, and
possessed that hallmark of aristocratic Maru society—
_cowry belts. In the good old days, they said, they
had visited the jade mines.

There were tiny tea gardens in these villages. As
cultivated here, it is a slender-branched tree, fifteen to
eighteen feet high.

‘AppeMeiI] oY} UMOP pjos sooqureq oy} pue dn woyorq oq [ITM HPT ONL

‘Va—H TIVIN AHL NO ILAVY NIHOV
[4q 0,04q

*bsq ‘pavuoaT -y ‘yy ‘d/]

BACK TO CIVILISATION = 265

The method of making tea is as follows :—

The leaves are rammed into a bamboo tube, which
is roasted over the fire till on again ramming down the
leaves juice can be squeezed out. More leaves are
added, and the process repeated, till finally the tube is
filled with a compact mass of leaves like plug tobacco;
and it is cut up in the same way, to be used as required.

Such tubes of compressed tea sell for six to twelve
annas, though one would imagine that by this process
all virtue had been expressed from the leaves.

We were able to get good-flavoured bananas here,
though they were rather full of hard black seeds.
Walnut-trees are found in the jungle, but the nuts are
useless for eating, the thick shell being as hard as
stone. The bark is said to be used for poisoning fish,
which rise to the surface when it is thrown into the
stream, At Hpimaw, however, edible walnuts are
found. This is evidently another variety altogether,
probably introduced from Yun-nan.

The mulberry is cultivated for rearing silkworms,
from which the Kachins weave their head-cloths and
beautifully worked bags, decorated with silk tassels.

Wild rubber (Ficus elastica) is still fairly common,
and is planted near the villages. We saw many trees
criss-crossed all over with V-shaped incisions made to
tap the latex, some so exhausted that they were already
dead. But the natives, finding rubber valuable, are
now more careful of their trees.

On 14th December we crossed the Daru hka. It
was a lovely day, the shade temperature rising to 74°
F. in the afternoon, which contrasted with an early
morning temperature of 50° F. seems very hot.

The Daru hka, like the other rivers crossed between

266 BACK TO CIVILISATION

Hkamti Long and Myitkyina, flows down from the
Kumon range, separating the Chindwin basin from the
Mali valley.

The early mornings continued dewy and misty, but
the days were radiant, with enough snap about the
nights to brace us.

The 15th was a great day. The road was fairly
good, descending in abrupt sweeps, and then suddenly,
at out feet, broad arid strong, crystal-clear, the Mali at
last, rolling between banks of glistening sand.

A steep descent and we lay by the river in the
smiting Burmese sunlight, watching the water slip
swiftly by and listening to the murmur of a small rapid
lower down.

After lazing thus for an hour, drinking in the peace
and beauty of the scene, we continued our march, soon
leaving the rocky river bed for the jungle again.

Presently we passed several groups of Kachins re-
turning from Myitkyina driving cattle before them,
sure sign the new leaven was working. Formerly a
man who went to Myitkyina to buy anything got back
with a very small portion of it, having paid the greater
part away in taxes to be allowed to pass. But with
the picketing of the road by military police every fifty
miles an impetus has been given to trade.

No wonder the short-sighted duwas are sad, now
that they have to go down to Myitkyina to buy their
own salt and cattle, instead of stealing from weaker
brethren or from the Shans! They do not yet per-
ceive how immeasurably to their ultimate interest is the
opening of the road. Nor, perhaps, do they greatly
care about their ultimate interest !

On 16th December the temperature fell as low as

BACK TO CIVILISATION = 267

49° F.—the lowest I recorded on the road. Dew was
streaming from the trees, and through the sear mist
our camp fires gleamed thickly.

We had only ten miles to do, starting with a long
climb up from the valley till we stood over 3000 feet
above the river.

A few miles more and then from the ridge just above
the ’Nsop stream we had a clear view southwards of
the Mali hka, blue as the cold weather sky, twisting
through the forested mountains; the bare, white-barked
trees striping the green wall of jungle made a very
pretty scene, bathed in the golden afternoon sunshine.

A precipitous descent brought us down to the ’Nsop
zup, splashing over its bed of jagged slate rocks, and
crossing by a bamboo trestle bridge we reached the
military police post above.

That night we sat down six to dinner—two P.W.D.
men, an officer of the 32nd Pioneers at work on the
new mule-road, a military police officer, the doctor
and myself. The talk naturally ran on exploration at
the sources of the Irrawaddy, of dead and dying mules,
of trackless forests and strange beasts, of rations and
ammunition abandoned and buried in the jungle for
lack of transport, of wild savages and wilder mountains,
remote valleys and unknown rivers. It was a pictur-
esque gathering on a far frontier of the Empire, while
Britain was fighting for her life in Flanders.

Country boats were expected to arrive from Myit-
kyina any day, and I awaited their arrival, while the
doctor, who was going on leave, hired carts for the
remaining forty-six miles, preferring to start at once
by road rather than await the mythical boats, As it
turned out, none came for a week.

268 (BACK TO CIVILISATION

Meanwhile the porters and elephants had started —
back; for the Nungs were fearful of being bewildered
in the mighty bustle of Myitkyina! We had two
chill days of rain now, but that soon passed, and it was
beautiful to see the sun climb into the valley and roll
up the quivering mist like a curtain.

Each day I wandered in the jungle, never far from the
bungalow, lest the boats should come during my absence.
At night the familiar bark of the muntjac and the
tiger’s appalling roar sounded very close in the stillness.

°Nsop fort crowns a small knoll overlooking the
river at the limit of boat navigation, nearly 1000 miles
from the sea.

See now ’Nsop post during the ‘open’ season, when
it is the rationing base for Hkamti, 160 miles distant by
road.

A mule convoy is picketed in the hollow, and a dozen
bullock carts are straggling through the gate in the
barbed wire, loaded up with rations.

Thus the small maidan below the fort is crowded with
Chinese muleteers, Indian drabis, Burmese, Kachins,
Shans and Gurkhas, all shouting at once; to the English-
man’s eye they are apparently mixed up in helpless
confusion, actually they are evolving some sort of order
out of the chaos, in the peculiar Oriental way.

The carts are being unloaded, and the loads trans-
ferred to mules. Now the Panthays leave their fires,
the squatting circles dissolve, and presently the convoy
of 150 mules, with one man to every five, starts on its
long march northwards. q

No sooner has the last mule been swallowed up in
the forest than from beyond the rocky promontory which
juts out into the river bed is heard the jangle of mule

BACK TO CIVILISATION = 269

bells again, and the head of an incoming convoy
appears. Here they come, strung out across the hot
. white sand, the weary little mules, though empty, hang-
ing their heads; for they have marched twenty-five
miles this day.

As soon as they are within the barbed wire, pack-
saddles are removed, picket lines set out, and in half-
an-hour they are contentedly crunching their ration of
beans; while the muleteers, their fires blazing again,
are squatting round the big iron pot bubbling in the
centre, each with his rice bowl and chopsticks. So
they chatter away as only a happy-go-lucky Panthay
muleteer can.

Before he started back, the big elephant was taken
down to ’Nsop stream and scraped clean with a dah.

It was as good as a play. First he knelt down
gently, so as not to upset the mahout, who was per-
forming hazardous antics on his back. Then he rolled
over on to his side, raising a tremendous wave, and
completely submerged himself save for his hind quarters,
which appeared like a great grey glistening hill of
leather. Next, his trunk appeared out of the water
momentarily, and sank again, followed by a sizzle of
bubbles.

Meanwhile the mahout was dancing with agility on
his back, scrambling to a flank as the lusty brute rolled
_over, and hitting him unmercifully across the head with
a dah blade, till once the elephant fairly roared with
pain. After coming up, he rose heavily to his feet,
ploughed tempestuously through the water, the mahout
still balanced on his back, knelt down, rolled over and
sank again. At last he was clean, scraped all over,
and emerged shaking himself.

270 BACK TO CIVILISATION

Orchids were by no means so common or various

here as they were in the wet Hpimaw hills between
3000 and 6000 feet; they do not get so equable
a supply of water here, in the regular monsoon climate,
with its long period of drought.

At last, on 22nd December, the long-expected
country boats arrived, and were quickly unloaded.
These boats, laden with stores, are towed up from
Myitkyina, and drift back with the current. |

After breakfast T‘ung and I went on _ board,
preferring to start late rather than kick our heels at
’Nsop for another day. It was pleasant to be lolling
in a boat on the last lap of our journey.

We had three boatmen, one in the stern with the

steering sweep and two in the bows hoiking away with -

short strokes, while we seated ourselves amidships on
the luggage. However, our crew did little rowing
once we were adrift, enticed from work by the lure of
opium; but the breeze being dead astern we pinned
two blankets together and raised a sail. So with the
help of the breeze we scudded along steadily, and soon
shot into a race which took us along well for half-a-
mile, the little boat jogging merrily over the choppy
waves which slapped against the gunwale.

Long jagged peninsulas of grey slate jutted out from
the shore, or showed up in mid-stream, and we floated
between well-timbered hills whose lower slopes were
covered with plantations of mulberry. Three hours
after starting we danced suddenly between a.maze of
rocks, and there before us, flashing in the sunshine,
smiled the broad Irrawaddy, the great river of Burma,
placid as a lake.

We had reached the confluence.

BACK TO CIVILISATION = 271

The ?Nmai hka here joins the Mali hka at an angle
of about 90°, flowing from nearly due east, boisterous
and wilfulasever. Behind us lay the wicked mountains
of the Burmese hinterland; in front lay the fair land of
Burma.

Progress now became slow, for the current was
feeble. As the sun sank to rest we passed Watungy
post, and immediately after came one quick hair-raising
rush through the big rapid, where the channel is
choked with sabre teeth, leaving a single narrow
passage. Into this maw the water hurls itself with an
angry roar. }

The boat seemed to leap into the jaws of a monstrous
shark with triple rows of cruel teeth which had bitten
off and cast aside great tree trunks, now stranded
thirty feet above water-level. The passage is barely
a score of yards in breadth and the water boils and
foams in its rage to get through.

My heart was in my mouth as we swung round
towards a wicked-looking rock which just showed
above water. We were right on it, 1 thought. Then
the vigilant pilot gave a warning yell which sent the
opium smokers to the bows in double quick time, from
where they fended us off with a pole not a moment too
soon to save our boat from going to the bottom of the
Irrawaddy.

Now the journey became a tranquil dream; the
sun set, and the primrose sky faded out as dusk came
on. So broad and still was the great river, so remote
the low, tree-clad banks, that we seemed to be motion-
less under the stars; but a glance at the bobbing
buoys which here and there marked the deep water
channel showed that there was a good stream running.

272 BACK TO CIVILISATION

A strange throbbing noise grew on us, and after
a time resolved itself into the rattle of machinery,
rising louder, then falling again. A black shape,
glowing with lights, loomed up ahead, and the noise _
grew to a full-throated roar as we floated past the
_ dredgers sucking up gold from the mud of the river.
Then they too fell astern and their voices sank to a
whisper.

A heavy dew settled down on everything, and the
stars glittered more brilliantly than ever. Feeling cold,
I took a turn at the oars; then fell to dozing.

Suddenly a bugle close at hand rang out “ Last Post”
and I sprang up with a start. The high bank of the
Myitkyina shore rose above us, and a moment later we
were alongside.

Without waiting for anything I leapt ashore to
stretch myself, stiff with cold and cramp—we had been
thirteen hours in the boat.

Here were the grass lawns, the roads and shaded
bungalows just as of old; everything seemed to be
wrapped in slumber; but I must wander through the
familiar scene like a restless spirit revisiting its beloved
haunts, drinking in the scent of roses.

The crisp challenge of a sepoy sentry startled me
for a moment, and then came the muttered “ Pass,
friend, All well.” So I wandered about, caring not
whither my footsteps strayed; and, returning to the
boat after midnight, slept under the stars.

Next morning I missed the train, but that afternoon,
watching the polo, I met several old see and dined
with a party of officers. |

Christmas Day.—The sun rose over the mountains
into a cloudless sky, splashing its golden light into

BACK TO CIVILISATION = 273

every nook and corner, and sparkling on the. dew-
drenched grass.

Soon the mountains bordering the China frontier
and away up north took on that warm blue tone that
you see in nothing else except the smoke of a wood
fire, and as I looked eastwards for the last time before
turning away to the railway station I felt a dreadful
home-sickness stealing over me.

In that moment everything—train, fever, hunger,
unending weariness of body and spirit, even infinite
torment of flies—was forgotten, except that I loved the
mountains.

T‘ung-ch‘ien was to accompany me as far as Naba,
where he changed trains en route for Bhamo and Yun-
nan. Brave soul! he had been with me, away from
his home in Li-kiang, for nearly a year, ever a staunch
companion, and cheerful through all our trials. Would
I ever see him again, I wondered.

Our boatmen and some of the Kachin porters who
had come by road were there on the platform, waving usa
last farewell; and as the train steamed out of Myitkyina
and I turned my back on those dim mountains rising
tier on tier in the pearly haze I could have stretched
out my arms to them and cried.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE NORTH-EAST FRONTIER

of our march along the North-East Frontier and

through the Burmese hinterland, pointing out the
interest of this country as regards its flora and people,
and showing how it is all part of the one region of
parallel rivers which stretches from the Brahmaputra
in Assam to beyond the Yang-tze in China. But the
work would be incomplete without some reference to
the future of the North-East Frontier, though in this
case it is necessary to be brief. :

It is only within the last six years! that the North-
East Frontier problem has become prominent, though
it has been maturing ever since the Tibet mission of
1904. Even now its scope and significance seem to be
frequently obscured by side issues,

| HAVE given in the previous chapters an account

As late as 1906 there was no defined frontier at 4

all. Administered territory stopped short a little north
of Myitkyina, the present railhead on the Irrawaddy,
twenty miles below the confluence.? North of that lay
the vast unadministered territory of the Burmese hinter-
land about which very little indeed was known.

True, the central plain of Hkamti Long had become —

1 Written in 1914.

2 That is, the confluence of the eastern pare western branches of the
Irrawaddy, the 7Nmai hka and the Mali hka, in Burma called always _

‘the confluence.” ‘The former is now recognised as the main stream,

274

THE NORTH-EAST FRONTIER 275

familiar from the journeys of British officers who
reached it early in the nineteenth century from Assam,
and much later, in 1895, it was visited by Prince Henry
of Orleans on his famous journey from Tonkin to India.
But the greater part of the territory, especially towards
the Salween divide, was entirely unexplored, though in
1899 Captain Pottinger had gone up the ’Nmai valley
as far as the Laking hka, where, coming into conflict
with the ‘ black” Marus (Naingvaws), he was compelled
to retreat over the Wulaw Pass to Hpimaw, and so
back to Burma by Htawgaw and Lawkhaung. There
was no mule-road between Myitkyina and Hpimaw in
those days.

In 1906 Hkamti Long again came into the official
limelight. In that year a Chinese mandarin named
Hsia-hu, whom I met in A-tun-tzu in 1911, visited the
plain from A-tun-tzu, and made proposals for its
annexation to Yun-nan.

But whatever justification there may be in the Chinese
claim to a part of the Irrawaddy basin, there can be no
question but that they had no shadow of a right to
Hkamti Long. While, therefore, the Indian Government
was willing to waive a long-standing interest in the
extreme north-east of the hinterland, it was rightly
adamant as regards the Hkamti plain: Great Britain
could not tolerate a growing Power like China, whose
policy has ever been a source of friction on the Burma
frontier, to establish herself in the heart of the Burmese
hinterland. We shall see adequate reason for this in
the sequel.

Hence, though the question was not acute, there was
a potential menace, and the time had come to act.
Now there are still left in Burma a group of men

276 THE NORTH-EAST FRONTIER

who in the old days of thirty years ago were amongst
the heroes of the annexation’'—men fresh to the
country, full of enthusiasm, and of a most indomitable
energy. They are older men now, though their en-
thusiasm has never been dimmed by fever, disappoint-
ment, or official red tape.

Amongst this band of pioneers who as young men
had spent days and nights in the saddle, eating as they
rode, sleeping where they dropped, callous to hidden
death in the jungle, which threatened them all the time
while rounding up the scattered remnants of King
Theebaw’s army, was a man named Hertz, destined
to make a name for himself on the roll of Indian fame.
The survivors of those great days who are still in Burma

are men in prominent positions—you find them scattered

throughout the country, in Rangoon, Moulmein, Manda-
lay and elsewhere: and perhaps no one of them has
come to the front more than Mr Hertz.

Years before the North-East Frontier became a
prominent political question, Hertz had realised that
one day in the not distant future a settlement would
have to be made with China beyond the Irrawaddy
confluence.

Unadministered territory which is to be a buffer
state between two civilising powers will remain unad-

ministered only so long as neither power is willing to |

undertake the responsibility of exploration and pacifica-
tion. Exploration by Government officials with armed
escorts is the thin end of the wedge. ;

Hertz therefore applied himself to the study of
Chinese, and later learnt Kachin; meanwhile he

1 J.e, the annexation of Upper Burma, always referred to in Burma

simply as ‘* the annexation.”

“4
(ae
a
i;
Ps
:
M
qe
ya? |
v
i
”

pets So

~~ > eee

THE NORTH-EAST FRONTIER 277

thoroughly mastered the geography of the Burma-
Yun-nan frontier, and being later posted as Deputy
Commissioner at Myitkyina, then on the edge of
administered country, he had ample opportunity to
study local conditions. When the Government was
at last persuaded to extend its administration into
the Burmese hinterland and delimit the frontier, it
found in Hertz, who had urged action, the right man
for the work. For following on MHsai-hu’s visit to
Hkamti Long in 1906 came a raid on the Lashi village
of Hpimaw, on the Salween divide, about 170 miles
from Myitkyina as the road goes to-day.

In 1911 came the first expedition to Hpimaw, which
was subsequently evacuated, again raided by the
Chinese, and permanently occupied by the Indian
Government eighteen months later, when the present
road and fort were built, and the *Nmai valley, with
its tributaries coming down from the Salween divide,
claimed as British territory.

In the same year, and again in 1912, expeditions
were sent up to Hkamti Long in order to ascertain
the extent of Chinese influence there. These columns
were led by Mr J. T. O. Barnard, one of the most
distinguished frontier officers in Burma. In the dry
weather of 1912-1913 occurred the great exploration
of the Burmese hinterland by two British columns,
one of which marched up the Mali valley to Hkamti,
the other up the ’Nmai valley to the Ahkyang;
and then it was that a Chinese survey party, sequel
to Hsia-hu’s efforts, and the Tibetan troubles of
1905-1911, was encountered in the Ahkyang valley
and pushed out of the country.

In January, 1914, Hkamti Long was permanently

278 THE NORTH-EAST FRONTIER

occupied and a part of the hinterland brought under
direct administration. Hertz, now honoured with a
C.S.I. for his work, was appropriately enough the
first Deputy Commissioner of the new district, with
headquarters at a post called Putao, from the name
of the nearest Shan village, but changed in 1918 to
Fort Hertz.’

Now in any discussion of frontier politics it is

necessary to be quite sure of what is aimed at over
a wider field than the immediate frontier.

The Indian Government did not pledge itself to
Hertz’s policy for the amusement of administering
the new country. It would indeed have shrunk from
doing so as long as it possibly could, for the initial
outlay in establishing a new district’ is heavy, and its
subsequent administration a matter of very heavy per-
manent expense. Moreover, it is impossible to move
on this frontier without considering our future relations
with China and Tibet, and so, in ever-growing circles
of complicity, with Russia.

As long as the hill tribes behaved themselves and
did not interfere with British subjects or administered
territory, and as long as no other power had designs
on the country, it could well be left to go its own
sweet way without guidance or assistance. True,
no European was permitted to enter unadministered
country; while a native, as soon as he had left his
friends, ran the serious risk of being sold into slavery.
Still these things did not matter.

But as soon as China hinted that she coveted the

1 Fort Hertz is the headquarters of the new district known as

Hkamti Long. The latter is the Shan name for the plain, comprising
a number of petty Shan states, each under its own sawbwa or chief.

1 ee a “ Ls

> a

i ee ae

et ee a
sD. el

ee eg? eee

oe a

Le ee She

THE NORTH-EAST FRONTIER 279

Burmese hinterland, and required it as a_ stepping-
stone to Tibet, it was necessary to find out something
about it and see if such a state of affairs as seemed
to be aimed at could or could not be tolerated.

’ It was no dog-in-the-manger policy. The Indian
Government had always claimed the basin of the
Irrawaddy on the ground that as Hkamti Long had
been originally subject to the Burmese kings, with the
change of government in Burma, Hkamti automatically
came under British protection.

This is the crux of the matter—that if we had
not occupied Hpimaw and Hkamti the Chinese would
have anticipated us there, threatening the rich valley
of the Irrawaddy and the plains of Lower Burma. But
as it does not seem to be generally understood why
the occupation of Hkamti by the Chinese would be
detrimental to our interests, nor why we should saddle
ourselves with the burden and expense of its adminis-
- tration when, it is argued, it were better left alone,
it will be as well to say a few words on this
point.

The journey from the Salween valley to the plain of
Hkamti is, at any season, an extremely difficult under-
taking.

For quite four months in the year the passes are
blocked with snow, and it is only in summer, when the
rains greatly increase the hardships of the journey, that
the passage of the watershed, with passes over 12,000
feet, can be effected. It is then obvious that, by having
the frontier as far east as possible, a considerable tract
of country which is impassable for troops is interposed
between China and the nearest habitable part of the -
Burmese hinterland.

280 THE NORTH-EAST FRONTIER

Why then surrender this advantage by allowing the
Chinese to occupy Hkamti Long, by which means
the entire mountain barrier is at once negatived? For
if the Chinese are in possession of the Hkamti plain
they can concentrate there, and it does not signify how ;
long it takes them to cross the intervening country in
‘small detachments, In the meantime they are enabled
to make the best of the country from the Salween :

valley to Hkamti, selecting the best route, which is
undoubtedly one via the Ahkyang valley, and keeping
up some sort of communications.

“But,” say many people, “what does it matter if
the Chinese do occupy Hkamti? They can’t hurt us,

and by occupying it we only put ourselves to enormous
expense and trouble for nothing.”

But we must consider what it may mean fifty years
hence. At present neither Myitkyina nor Assam,
especially the latter, is easily reached from Hkamti, the
‘country is sparsely populated, and those in possession
are to some extent isolated.

On the other hand, Hkamti can support a population
ten times as great as it does at present, and a good road
from Fort Hertz to Myitkyina presents no insuperable
engineering difficulties, as is shown by the success with __
which the P.W.D. and Pioneers are now pushing on
operations.} 4

Suppose, then, Hkamti occupied by a large Chinese ¥
community, a good mule-road built to Myitkyina and
communication established with the Salween valley, this _
would constitute a real menace to Upper Burma, already
crowded with Chinese; and with Hpimaw also in their —

. hands they would be in a position to advance into the

1'The road has been finished long since this was written.

THE NORTH-EAST FRONTIER 28:

Irrawaddy valley by several routes. This, however, is
not the most serious danger.

_It is not to be forgotten that before the annexation
.of Upper Burma the Chinese endeavoured to frustrate
any attempt by the British to open up communications
between Burma and China, by inciting the hill tribes,
just as they subsequently attempted to thwart direct
_ communication between India and Lhasa. Ever since the
annexation the hill tribes have been a constant source of
anxiety on this frontier. The Chinese revel in diplomatic
intrigue and are the worst possible frontier neighbours.

Their methods are indirect. If then they occupied
the Hkamti plain in force, they might easily, as they
well know how, inflame the Kachins against us, using
them as a convenient catspaw to harass the northern
frontier. Further, with China controlling the whole
of this great plain, all hope of opening up direct com-
munication between Burma, the Zayul valley and south-
eastern Tibet on the one hand, and between Burma,
Assam and Hkamti via the Hukong valley on the other,
would come to an end; and as this route via the Diphuk
La is probably the only one by which communication
between the -Burmese hinterland and Tibet can be
established, that dream too would have to be given up.

China, moreover, would have driven a big wedge into
the Burmese hinterland, cutting it off from Tibet,
threatening Upper Burma and threatening Assam. She
would leave behind her the greatest obstacles to any
attack on Burma from the north-east, and stultify the
great advantage which would otherwise accrue to us
from acting on internal lines of communication in case
of hostilities on this frontier.

At some future date China will be more formidable

282 THE NORTH-EAST FRONTIER

than she is at present, and though I do not suggest

that China will ever threaten seriously an invasion of
India, yet the history of the past thirty years has
shown that she can be a very uncongenial neighbour.
The western provincial governments have so very
clearly shown how they wish to establish themselves
in the Burmese hinterland that the Indian Government
is wise in anticipating the event, since, whatever the
expense now, to turn them out ten years hence, if it
were at all feasible, would be a most costly proceeding.

That the Kachins would require little encouragement
to worry the people of the plains, especially if they
received a substantial backing from the north, cannot
be doubted. Some of the clans are independent and
truculent, and though it would perhaps be flattery to
call them warlike, still, like most hill-men, they can
be a serious nuisance on occasion. As recently as
January, 1915, the Kachins to the north-west of Myit-
kyina, occupying unadministered territory, raided the
peaceful tribes and stoutly resisted the British punitive
expedition. Most of the Kachin tribes probably do
not love the British Raj; they dislike paying taxes and
at present no doubt neither realise nor appreciate the
uses to which those taxes are put.

It can then be readily understood that if the Chinese
got amongst them and represented to them that under

British rule they would lose their liberty, they might —

become a formidable menace to our rule in Upper
Burma, surrounding British territory as they do on
three sides. For this reason alone it is above all things
necessary to keep the Chinese out of Hkamti and stand
between them and the Kachins.

Raiding parties into the hinterland need not be con-

THE NORTH-EAST FRONTIER 283

_ sidered: in the end they can only defeat their own
object by forcing the tribesmen to seek the protection

of Government. Invasion, on the other hand, is a
formidable undertaking, and an army of conquest is
useless unless two conditions are fulfilled: (1) that
it can be rapidly transported to the point where it is
most required and (2) kept there.

As for any army the Chinese could assemble on the
North-East Frontier without a single mile of railway
within 300 miles of that frontier, and roads so bad as
to be almost impassable for mules in summer, no rapid
concentration at a selected point could conceivably
be effected; and once over the frontier, their base
behind them, as many marches as the army went
forward it would have to retire, unless it were certain
that Hkamti could be reached, and taken, in a given
time. ‘To effect a surprise would be impossible, and any
such expedition would probably perish in the jungles.

As regards keeping an army in the Burmese hinter-
land, all supplies would need to be transported there,

_and the country could not supply the transport. Even

the fortified posts in the Salween valley are supplied
with meat and other necessaries from the garrison cities
of western Yun-nan.

That the Chinese were not already established in
Hkamti by 1914 was their own fault; they had spied
out the land in 1906. But there is no continuity in
China’s foreign policy, and the central government is in
the habit of leaving provincial governments in the lurch
when through failure to succeed in any enterprise they
find themselves entangled with a foreign government.
This saves her much temporary inconvenience, but may
introduce embarrassments later.

284 THE NORTH-EAST FRONTIER

Up to 1912 no steps had been taken by the Yun-nan

Government for the occupation of Hkamti; the Chinese —

survey parties which entered the hinterland that winter
. were chiefly engaged in seeking a road to Tibet, and
their numbers were in any case far too few to occupy
territory. They were easily dispersed by the British
expedition, and all Chinese pretensions to the hinterland,
beyond the still disputed Taron valley, disappeared.*

It being conceded that it is necessary to keep the
Chinese out of the hinterland, the next thing to consider
is the best way to do it. Would it be better to occupy
the Hkamti plain, or to defend what we claim as the
frontier—namely, the Salween divide from latitude
26° N. almost to the sources of the Irrawaddy?

The southernmost pass leading from the Salween

directly into the Irrawaddy basin—namely, the Hpimaw —

Pass—had been frequently crossed by Chinese troops
and the hill country invaded. Would it be best to
extend the road northwards from Hpimaw along the
frontier, erecting more forts where necessary, or leave
the Hpimaw fort to mark the limit of our advance
along the frontier, and occupy Hkamti?

Now I have briefly described my journey northwards

from Hpimaw to beyond the Ahkyang confluence, and —
two things stand out prominently in my memory:

(1) the enormous difficulty and expense of carrying a
road over the Wulaw Pass and up the 7Nmai hka valley,
a route which seems to me to present far greater dif_i-
culties than that up the Mali valley from Myitkyina to
Fort Hertz (2) the extraordinary wildness and sparse

population of the mountains and valleys between the

1 Since this was written the British frontier line has been selected,
leaving the Taron to the Chinese, and, in the north, to the Tibetans.

Bash
’

THE NORTH-EAST FRONTIER 285

?Nmai valley and the magnificent barrier of the Salween
divide. ‘To carry the Hpimaw road east of the 7Nmai
valley, whether the route is more practicable or not, is
impossible without vast expenditure, because no labour
or supplies are available.

But what advantage is gained by protecting the
immediate frontier? We should simply sacrifice all the
advantages of maintaining a strip of almost uninhabited
and uninhabitable country between the frontier and a
less advanced base, without covering Hkamti, which
would still be open to invasion from the north via the
Zayul valley and Diphuk La if south-east Tibet was
in the hands of the Chinese as it was in 1911. By
holding Hkamti itself, apart from its economic advan-
tages, we do not imperil the frontier territory in the
slightest degree, since the Chinese would never settle
in the hinterland except on the paddy-land of Hkamti;
while to cross this strip would be for the Chinese to
risk everything to meet exactly as strong opposition
there as they would meet with if they crossed the
frontier 200 miles farther south in the Se alle
of Myitkyina or Bhamo.

To hold Hkamti, and not the ss is to treble
the distance between the Chinese military cities of
north-western Yun-nan and their first objective in case
of an invasion of Burma from the north-east. Any
force striking at Burma from the north or north-east
must pass through Hkamti. It is the only place an in-
vading force would dare to halt at. Therefore Hkamti
Long is thé strategic key to the entire frontier.

The defensive position to be thoroughly effective
must be as near as possible to both Upper Burma
and Assam, so that it can be rapidly reinforced from

286 THE NORTH-EAST FRONTIER

either direction. The only places fulfilling these
conditions are the Hukong valley and Hkamti Long.

The ?Nmai valley is out of the question. Not
only is no settlement of it possible—half the advantage
of working on internal lines is lost if the base is
pushed so far forward in a country devoid of natural
means of communication.

Quite apart from the economic advantages of holding
the plain, with its paddy-land, its comparative ease
of access from Myitkyina, and its control of the
routes into Assam, it is of very great advantage to
the tranquillity of the Burmese hinterland. As long
as there was a possibility of acquiring the plain the
Chinese along the frontier were restless. Here was
splendid paddy-land, a halting-place on the road to
the upper Brahmaputra (Tsanpo) valley and Lhasa,
as they thought, and no one in possession. Why
should they not acquire it and extend the borders
of Yun-nan westwards, so as to embrace the whole
of the source streams of the Irrawaddy?

longer bother about it. Frontier raiding will become
profitless, and the pedlars will come peacefully as of
old over the passes selling clothes, cotton, yarn and
salt to the natives.

I have said above that no advance on Myitkyina
from the north-east is possible without first crossing
Hkamti, but this is perhaps open to objection. There
is still the 7Nmai hka valley, and by entering the
country via the comparatively well-populated Ahkyang
valley or down the Laking valley, both of which routes
have been in the past, and are still, used by Chinese
traders, it might be thought that in the event of

THE NORTH-EAST FRONTIER 287

a simultaneous attack along the Burma frontier a con-
siderable diversion could be created from the north-
east.

However, setting aside the improbability of any such
combined attack over the widely separated passes which
present all degrees of difficulty, no force capable of
creating a considerable diversion could be marched
down the *Nmai valley at one time. The posts north
of Myitkyina at the lower end of the 7Nmai valley are
strong enough to cope with any raiding expedition that
could approach Upper Burma from this direction, and
it does not seem necessary at present to watch the
valleys by which the Chinese might enter the hinter-
land—namely, the Laking, Mekh and Ahkyang. But
so long as such a rallying-point as Hkamti were not
occupied by us, it would be necessary to watch every
route by which the Chinese could reach it, and this
would imply a considerable system of communications
in a country less adapted to road-making than is the
Mali valley. Whereas by occupying Hkamti the very
difficulties which would make it so inconvenient for us
to hold the frontier would deter the Chinese from
crossing into our territory.

As for local raids, it is scarcely worth while to con-
sider them. North of the Hpimaw hill tracts there is
nothing worth raiding and the numbers able to embark
on such a profitless undertaking would necessarily be so
few that the local tribesmen would be sufficiently strong
to resist them. :

- Having seen something of the North-East Frontier
both on the Chinese side (the Salween valley) and in
British territory, I feel certain that, so long as we hold
Hkamti, aggression from the north-east cannot possibly

288 THE NORTH-EAST FRONTIER
succeed, nor is an attack from, that direction likely.
The Salween valley itself is a formidable barrier
separating the possible points of Chinese concentration,
in western Yun-nan, from the mountainous frontier,
and though there are numerous passes into the Burmese
hinterland, the routes are so long and difficult that
news of the approach of even a small raiding party
would be known in Hkamti long before anything useful
could be accomplished.

There is another circumstance which must soon
bring the North-East Frontier into prominence. The
Burmese hinterland is the link between India and
China. (eR

My personal experience of the country leads me
to believe that no southern trans-Asiatic railway will
ever be built in this region—the physical barriers
on the China side are too enormous; nevertheless,
with the development of mechanical transport, roads
might be built across the North-East Frontier.

The main routes through Asia were marked out
in the long past, and, except where they have been
obliterated by the gradual desiccation of Central Asia,
are the same now as they were many centuries
ago. Such do not change, for the great centres of
population do not change except slowly, and physical
barriers remain where they have always been; even
when railways replace roads, they follow those
roads.

It is sea transport that has diverted attention from
the trade routes of interior Asia. Since the Portuguese
and the Dutch, the French and the English came
to Asia by sea, the land routes, always running from
east to west across the continent, skirting the deserts

-
\

THE NORTH-EAST FRONTIER 289

and following the great longitudinal valleys, have not
been approached from north or south.

Now ,the perfection of mechanical land transport
may see a return to the great trans-continental roads.

They were wise, those old autocrats. They grasped
right principles and built on the grand scale. The
Great Wall of China may have fallen into disuse under
altered conditions of war, but not the Grand Canal.
Peace conditions have not changed so much even
after two thousand years, and the Grand Canal is
indeed to be restored.

We cannot divert trade in Asia while men live
where they do live, migrate as they do migrate,
while deserts and mountain ranges and rivers are
where they are—it still flows along accustomed routes,
and will continue to do so when the pyramids lie in
the dust.

We can supplement it, increase it by improving
communications, but we cannot stop it. Trade routes
are not abandoned till nature renders them impassable.

Thus it 1s our endeavour to study the main channels
of trade, and to ease all friction, that it may flow
easily and naturally. |

Every new means of transport, every short-cut to
the markets of the world, must be employed, not in a
selfish attempt to snatch profits, but to benefit all.

And history shows that this is so—in profiting
ourselves we profit others. Our policy in Asia has
always been to open and to keep open trade routes
for all. We spent lacs of rupees and valuable
lives—I need instance only that of Margary—to
reopen the Bhamo-Tali-fu trade route, since when
both Burma and Yun-nan have reaped prosperity as

290 THE NORTH-EAST FRONTIER

a direct result. The story of that effort is not very
creditable to the Indian governments concerned, but
in the end the work of the pioneers—Margary, Sladen,
Clement Williams and others—was crowned with
success, and results have amply justified it.

The history of our attempts to open up direct
communication between India and Tibet, or between
India and China, is not dissimilar, except in this
respect—that there never has been such communication
in the past. The way from Central Asia to India has
_always been by the North-West Frontier.

We may confidently believe, therefore, that if such

a route would have served any useful purpose in the

past, it would have been found and used by the
Tibetans or by the Chinese.

Before sea trade was developed, such a road led
nowhere. It was a blind alley, leading only to the
sea. And there were bad lands to cross—it was
not worth it.

Now it is different. The great trade routes of
Asia are still there as of yore; some of them lie
only just beyond the North-East Frontier, to north
and east, linking up the richest province in China
with the richest part of Tibet. Caravans from half
a continent still ebb and flow along them. And in
the south the sea-borne trade from the ends of the
earth plies patiently, still seeking its way slowly but
surely to the heart of Asia. Between them lies the
Burmese hinterland, across which we must stride
to the open spaces beyond. With the railhead at
Myitkyina, only 300 miles from the Tibetan frontier,
and a good mule-road already constructed for 200

x ee
SS eee

miles, to Hkamti Long, it would be comparatively —

THE NORTH-EAST FRONTIER 291

easy to extend it so as to link up Burma with the
richest provinces of Tibet.

Thus our road would not be useless, our past efforts
to open up direct communication with Tibet not wasted.
For history proves that the great trade routes are as
eternal as the Himalaya. Just out of reach, beyond
our frontier, the flood trade rolls on past India. The
proposed route, tapping this great stream, will revive it,
nourish it, swell it and share its new-born prosperity.

In this way too a land connection between Burma
and Assam of strategic value in improving the internal
lines of communication would be assured. From
Rima, in the Zayul’ valley, there would be a choice
of routes: (1) down the Zayul valley to the Assam
railway, a distance of about 150 miles; (2) over the
Diphuk La to Hkamti Long, whence Burma could
be reached via the Hukong valley, or by following
the present road, down the Mali valley. By this
last route Rima is about 300 miles from railhead.

Thus our policy will be to improve existing com-
munications and open up direct access to the interior
by the shortest possible route.

It must not be forgotten that it would not prove
a very difficult feat to carry a railway up the Mekong
valley, the strategic value of which would be to the
Chinese considerable.

From the middle Mekong the railway might be
carried across to Tali-fu, thus missing the formidable
mountain range between this river and the Yang-tze,
while the great range between the Mekong and the
Salween would be crossed far to the north, where
both rivers flow from the north-west.

As to the proposed southern trans-Asiatic railway,

292 THE NORTH-EAST FRONTIER

it is certain it will never cross the Burmese hinterland.
Should it ever be built, it must run north of the
Irrawaddy triangle, from the Tsanpo valley to the
Salween valley, entering Yun-nan by the Mekong
valley.

Oe Pe

te es

APPENDICES

Common As called
English by the tribe
Name itself

Kachin

Chinese

ee ee ee eee

Shan-t‘ou,

Kachin | Ching-paw | Yéh-jén!

Maru |Lawng-vaw| Lan-su

SS eS ee a

Lashi Le-chi Ch‘a-shan

Lisu, or

rie Li-so, or
Yawyin

Yéh-jén!

Shan, or be
Tai Hkamti

Pai-i
Taron

Bune (Tourong)

Kiu-tzu

1 The words yéh-jén mean “ wild man” and are commonly applied to any of
2 The Shans have confused the Lisu with the Nung, using the same name for b

3 The Shans were once a great race, but have become split up into a numbe
geneous body of Shans now are the Siamese. The word “Shan” is the Burn

4 Hkunung means “slave Nung.”

(294

Ix I

RIBES, NORTH-EAST FRONTIER

Lisu Shan Nung Principal Present Home
ae Hkang hy Mali valley, Hukong valley and
trans-Mali country
j ‘ f ‘
Pasi Ma-lu Lys Nmai hia and tributaries up to
dat .i:27°: 20

FA | Htawgaw Hills and Ngawchang
hka

Salween valley, Salween-Irrawaddy
—- | Chenung*| | divide, tributaries of the’Nmai hka |

—t Plain of Hkamti Long |

Taron and valleys to the west,

hay Hkunung 4 ‘en north of lat. 27° 30’

ll tribes, The word Yawyin is clearly a corruption of it.

olated bodies, of whom the Hkamti Shans are one. The only considerable homo-
ame forthem. The Hkamti Shans call themselves simply Hkamti,

295

APPENDIX II

HE following list includes some of the more
interesting plants which I collected in the
Htawgaw Hills in 1914 and 1919; others

are mentioned in the course of the narrative. Those
printed in heavy type are new species; those marked
with an asterisk are in cultivation in England raised
from my seeds. The numbers refer to my catalogues.

The identifications are by Sir Isaac Bayley Balfour,
F.R.S., and Mr W. W. Smith, M.A., to whom I am
indebted.

3224.
1707,

1963.
1414.
*3575-
1945.
200.
*2420.

3310.

7 rts

1975:

3590.
1660.

1970.
1867.

Abelia sp. (undetermined).

Acanthopanax evodiefolius, Franch. var. fer-
rugineus, W. W. Sm. var. nov.

Acanthopanax trifoliatus, Schneider.

Acer Wardii, W. W. Sm.

Aconitum sp. (undetermined).

Eginetia indica, Roxb.

Agapetes Wardii, W. W. Sm.

Allium sp. (undetermined).

Androsace sp. (undetermined).

Androsace Henryi (°).

Apios carnea, Benth.

Arenaria pogonantha.

Beesia cordata, B. fil. et W. W. Sm. gen.
noy. Ranunculacearum.

Bletilla hyacinthina, Reich. f.

Buddleia limitanea, W. W. Sm.

297

298

#3314
3697
1788
3366

3311.
1824.
‘733°
3084.
1698.

*3491.
1569.
1708.
3663.

1783
* 3360
1796
Toa67

APPENDIX II
. Buddleia sp. (undetermined).

. Campanula colorata.

| cassione myosuroides, W. W. Sm.

Cassiope palpebrata, (?) W. W. Sm.
Chirita umbricola, W. W. Sm.
Circeea alpina, Linn.

Clintonia sp. (undetermined).
Clitoria Mariana, Linn.
Codonopsis sp. (undetermined).
Coelogyne corymbosa, Lindl.
Corydalis saltatoria, W. W. Sm.
Cotoneaster rotundifolia.
"}Cremanthodium gracillimum, W. W. Sm.

"lGremanthodium Wardii, W. W. Sm.

—S—— ee’

. Cremanthodium sp, (undetermined),

3478. Cymbidium sp. (undetermined).

. Cypripedium bracteatum, Rolfe.

2003. Daedalacanthus Wardii, W. W. Sm.

Dendrobium sp. (undetermined).

1599. Dipentodon sinicus, Dunn.

. Disporum pullum, Salisb.

1596. Drosera peltata, Sm.

. Enkianthus sp. (undetermined).
. Enkianthus sp. (undetermined).
. Enkianthus deflexus (?).

. Epipactis Royleana, Lindl.

. Euonymus Wardii, W. W. Sm.

. Gaultheria trichophylla, Royle.
. Gaultheria fragrantissima, Wall.
. Gaultheria Griffithiana, Wight.

APPENDIX II

Gaultheria sp.. (undetermined).

Gaultheria laxiflora, Diels (mew to Burma).
Goodyera Schlechtendaliana, Reichb. f.
Gynura angulosa, DC.

. Hedychium sp. (undetermined).
. Herminium angustifolium, Lindl.
. Hydrangea subferruginea, W. W. Sm.
. Hydrangea yunnanensis, Rehder.
. Hydrangea aspera, D. Don.

. [llictum yunnanense, Franch.

. Iris sp. (undetermined).

. Lagotis Wardii, W. W. Sni.

. Leptocodon gracile.

. Lysionotus gracilis, W. W. Sm.

. Lysionotus Wardii, W. W. Sm.

. Lilium Thompsonianum.

» Lilium Wallichianum.

. Lloydia sp. (undetermined).

. Limnophila hirsuta, Benth.

. Limnophila sessiliflora, Blume.

. Listera sp. (undetermined).

. Lonicera sp. (undetermined).

. Magnolia sp. (undetermined).

. Meconopsis Wallichii.

. Microglossa volubilis, DC.

- Microstylis muscifera, Ridley.

. Mimulus nepalensis, Benth.

. Mimulus sp. (undetermined).

. Millettia cinerea, Benth.

. Mucuna pruriens, DC.

- Nomocharis pardanthina, (?) B. fil.
- Oberonia myriantha, Lindl.

A990)

300

1865.
3286.
3282.
* 3394.
1602.
1714.
1854.
r937°
1940.
Oy 3
1983.
* 3.453
3393"

1688

3°93
* 1632

* 3094.
* 3389.
3186.
1644.
1805.
1784.
1634.
1635.
34097-
* 2656.
3092.
3110.
3150.
1572.

Nee

APPENDIX II

Oxyspora serrata, Diels.
Parnassia sp. (undetermined).
Philadelphus sp. (undetermined).
Polygonum Grifhithii.
Polygonum runcinatum, Ham.
Polygonum microcephalum, D. Don.
Polygonum molle, Don.
Polygonum chinense, Linn.
Polygonum orientale, Linn.
Polygonum hydropiper, Linn.
Polygonum perfoliatum, Linn.
Polygonum sp. (undetermined),
Polygonum Forrestii.

Primula praticola, Craib.

Primula seclusa.

Primula calliantha (?).

Primula involucrata (?).
Primula Delavayi (?).

Primula fragilis, B. fil et Ward.
Primula coryphaea, B. fil et Ward.
Primula sciophila, B. fil et Ward.
Primula Beesiana.

Primula, helodoxa.

Primula serratifolia.

Primula sp. (undetermined).
Primula euosma (?).
Primula sp. (undetermined).
Primula sp. (undetermined).
Primula sonchifolia.

Primula sp. (undetermined),
Primula limnoica.

Primula Listeri.

APPENDIX II 301

1758. Pueraria Wallichii, DC.

1950. Pueraria Thunbergiana, Benth.
* 3158. Pyrus sp.

1851. Rhododendron agapetum, Balf. fil. et Ward.
*1628. Rhododendron megacalyx, Balf. fil. et Ward.
* 3101. Rhododendron arizelum, Balf. fil. et Forrest.

1817 |

1757

1538. Rhododendron dendricola, Hutchinson.
* 3392. Rhododendron dicranthum (?).

1778
* 33201

"| Rhododendron crassum, Franch.

Rhododendron euchroum, Balf. fil et Ward.

Rhododendron erigoynium, Balf. fil.
1596. Rhododendron facetum, Balf. fil. et Ward.
* 32042. Rhododendron habrotrychum, Balf. fil. et
W. W. Sm.
* 3267. Rhododendron herpesticum, Balf. fil. et Ward.
1567. Rhododendron mallotum.
1791. Rhododendron nmaiense, Balf. fil. et Ward.
1906. Rhododendron operinum, Balf. fil. et Ward.
1565. Rhododendron regale, Balf. fil. et Ward.
* 3016. Rhododendron siderium, Balf. fil.
1629. Rhododendron sciaphilum, Balf. fil. et Ward.
3316. Rhododendron sino-grande, Balf. fil. et
W. W. Sm.
* 3095. Rhododendron tapeinum, Balf. fil. et Farrer.
1566. Rhododendron tanastylum, Balf. fil.
1568. Rhododendron zaleucum, Balf. fil. et W. W. Sm.
* 3001-D. Rhododendron sp. (undetermined).
* 2040. Rhododendron sp. (undetermined).

*
3 ag, [Rhododendron sp. (undetermined).
3395s

* 3300. Rhododendron sp. (undetermined).

302 APPENDIX II

* 3301. Rhododendron sp. (undetermined).
* 2302. Rhododendron sp. (undetermined).

*
3302 {Rhododendron sp. (undetermined).
aa 304. Rhododendron sp. (undetermined).

* 3155. Rhododendron sp. (undetermined).
* 9189.
3365.
* 2408. : :
3972 1} Rhododendron sp. (undetermined).
3722. Rhododendron sp. (undetermined).
3527. Rhynchoglossum obliquum.
3006. Rosa bracteata (?).
3072. Rosa sericea.
3401. Rosa sp. (undetermined).
* 3199. Roscoea sp. (undetermined).
1695. Rubus loropetalus, Franch (new to Burma).
1955. Sabia Wardii, W. W. Sm.
1870. Satyrium nepalense, Don.

vob, | hizandra grandiflora, H. f. and T.

|Rhododendron sp. (undetermined ).

1693. Scrophularia Delavayi, Franch.
* 2123. Sorbus sp. (? undetermined).
1848. Spathoglottis pubescens.

| Spire Wardii, W. W. Sm.

3363. Spirzea bella.

1735. Spiranthes australis.

1775. Sporoxeia sciadophilaa W. W. Sm. gen. nov.
Melastomacearum.

1749. Streptopus amplexifolius.

3265. Streptopus sp. (undetermined).

1911. Strobilanthes oresbius, W. W. Sm.

- —" SS. . _ -
ae ee

1912.
1896.
2000.

Te Lyf

were

‘

\
APPENDIX II 303

Strobilanthes Wardii, W. W. Sm.
Strobilanthes stramineus, W. W. Sm.
Strobilanthes arenicolus, W. W. Sm.
Thalictrum semiscandens, W. W. Sm.
Thalictrum sp. (undetermined).

*3001-A. Thalictrum sp. (undetermined).

1760.
1514.
1611.
I8r1.
1705.
1718.
3°99:

1620.

Tofieldia yunnanensis, Franch.
Torenia peduncularis, Benth.
Tovaria finitima, W. W. Sm.
Tovaria Wardii, W. W. Sm.
Tricyrtis macropoda, Miq.
Tripterygium Forrestii, Loes.

| Viburnum Wardii, W. W. Sm.

1658. Viburnum erubescens, W. W. Sm.

1716.

1719.

Viburnum cylindricum, Ham.
Viburnum foetidum, Wall.

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Map showing the relative position of THE TRIANGLE to Neighbouring States and Countries.

It is situated between long. 95 and 100, and lat. 25 and 30, and is indicated thus— - — - — - — -

INDEX

Animats and birds—

Animal life, absence of, 75; in
the jungle, 252

Baboon, a pig-tailed, 182, 196,
197» 223

Baboons, forest alive with, 23

Bamboo partridge, 58, 76

Barking deer, 40, 58, 98

Bear, 58, 83, 135, 140

Birds, persecution of, by natives,

7
Buffalo, 217
Chinese blood pheasant, 89
Fowls destroyed by vermin, 49
Game on the North-East
_ Frontier, 58, 241
Gibbons, 216, 229
Harvest mouse, 165
Jay, 37
Jungle fowl, 24, 221; rats, 50
Kingfisher, 192
Mithan, 140, 217
— 140, 165, 173s 178,

207

Sclater’s Monal, 89

Serow, 58, 135, 140

Shrew, a new, 107

Snakes, 57, 75, 79, 144, 146,
195

Takin, 91, 135, 140; distribu-
tion of, 92

Voles, 125

Water-shrew. 132

Woodpecker, 37

B
Barnarp, Mr J. T. O., 205, 221,
223, 224, 227, 235, 260, 277

Barter, Chinese love of, 61

Brooks, Dr, 227

Buddhism, 22, 225, 236, 237,
251

Burd, Captain, 227

Burial customs in China, 115, He

Cane bridges, 28, 29, 67, 119,
138, I41, 142, 143, 160, 184;
structure of, 28

Chinese, migration of, 79

Chinese wine, 63

Clerk, Mr F. V., 153

Coffin plank industry, 57, 113,
120

Conry, Captain, 213, 216

Cooper, Mr-T. T., 220, 236

Cultivation—

Buckwheat, 49, 68, 136, 154,
163, 174

Capsicum, 182

Cotton, 154, 183

Cucumber, 112, 113, 195

Hill-side cultivation (taungya),
51, 66, 68, 69, 111, 120, 1233
difficulties of, 70, 71

Indigo, 154

Job’s tears, 242

Maize, 49, 63, 110, 113, 120,
136, 149, 153) 177, 183

Millet, 113, 174

Mountain rice, 49, 153

Pumpkins, 163, 182

Rice cultivation, 29, 30, 49, 67
TIO, 225

Taungya, 153, 154, 174, 183,
264; preparation of, 51

¥ 395

306

Cultivation—cont.
Tobacco, 113, 135, 163, 182
Village cultivation, 229, 230,

244, 248, 253, 264
Yams, 182

D
Don Juan, a Chinese, 46, 47

ELEPHANTS as transport,

252, 253, 263, 269

English scenery in Burma, 231

243»

Fever, 40, 43, 53, 69, 75 78
Fish drive, 184

Fish traps, 118, 143
Floras—

Alpine flowers, 86, 88, 90, 92,
93; meadows, 35, 36, 56,
108, 128, 129, 208

Bamboo forest, 74, 133

Chinese flora, 1423; relation to
Himalayan, 87

Conifer forest, 57, 85, 127

Dwarf shrubs, 90

- Forest undergrowth, 34, 54, 72;

7
Indo-Malayan flora, 142, 256

Limestone peak, flora of a, 50,

60, 105

Mekong-Salween divide, flora
of, 87

Monsoon forest, 20, 23, 25,
247, 255, 256, 257

North-East Frontier flora, re-
lationships of, 86, 256; route
followed by, 87; where de-
rived from, 87, 256

Temperate rain forest, 34, 36,

372 54, 55, 74, 108, 133

Flowers, Gurkhas’ fondness for,

104

INDEX

Forest fires, 22, 23 —
Frontier forts, construction and use —
of, 48, 102, 103

Geroxocy of the Mali valley, 246,

254, 264
Gold dredgers, 272

Heavy rains, effect of, 63 q
Hertz, Mr W. A., 31, 205, 226,
227, 243, 276, 2775 278 !

I
INsECTs, etc.—
Bees, 133, 134, 194, 204
Blood-blister flies, 52, 53, 98
Bugs, edible, 248 ».
Butterflies, 112, 141, 155, 162,

218; Dalchina, 169; leaf-

butterfly, 169; Cyrestis, 170; —
Leptocircus, 170; a curious —
assemblage of, 168

Butterfly, a huge, 106

Caterpillars, curious behaviour of,
81

Cicadas, 142, 154, 202, 200,
ora

Flies, 40, 88, 983 horse, —
52, 58, 209; house, 58, 192,
194; sand, 52, 58, 60, 98,
I3I, 134, 192, 202, 206,
209, 211, 221, 241

Lanc "leeches, description oft
218

Leeches, 55» 59s 104, 134, 209,
210, 220, 241

Mimicry, a case of, 53, 170,
195

Mosquitoes, 53, 80, 162, 192,
194, 202, 204 .

Red ants, 162

INDEX 307

Insects—cont.
Stick-insect, 104, 117, 209
Ticks, 59, 241

Iron mines, 217

‘

Juncie shelter, 125, 135, 202,
206

Lanctey, Mr, 241
Lao-niu, 21, 72, 109
Leonard, Mr P. M. R., 241

Mauserr fishing, 25, 192
Ming-kuan, 57, 62
Monkey scares, 110, 111, 112, 154
Moon, eclipse of, 158.
Mountains—
Hpimaw hills, 151
Imaw Bum, 33, 65, 80, 81, 83,
84, 85, 87, 88, 89, 117, 121,
129
Laksang Bum, 66, 96, 105
Lawhkaung ridge, 24, 25, 27,
39, 102, 142
Noi Matoi, 230
North-East Frontier, mountain
ranges of, 18 !
Mekong-Salween divide, 130
Salween-Irrawaddy divide, 21,
117

NatT-TREEs, 218

Nats, 137

North-East Frontier, delimitation
of, 18, 2843; recent events on,
17, 260; trade on, 136, 137,
286; transport on the, 108

O
Opium, 40, 135

Pacopas, Shan, 241, 242
Passes—

Chimili, 116 :

Feng-shui-ling, 30, 50, 51, 56,
575 58, 64, 74, 114, 128

Hpare, 27, 29

Hpimaw, 30, 31, 38, 105, 108

Lagwi, 27, 29

Lakhe, 139

Panwa, 24

Shing-rup-kyet, 208

Wulaw, 113, 117, 123, 131;
138, 155

Phallic worship, 156, 258
Phosphorescent wood, 78
Places and Posts—

Assam, 17, 29, 87, 92, 108,
109, 215, 220, 245

Black Rock, 30, 118

Bhamo, 19, 46

Bort Hertz,\./152, %56,' 176,
tYQ,: 215, 215, 326, 228,
241

Hpimaw, 151, 155,172 ; arrival
at, 313 expedition to, 30,
277; departure from, 109;
Fort, 21, 24, 27) 30) 33» 405
48, 50, 58, 74, 80, 97, 995
103, 1073; garden at, 50;
occupation of, 31, 104; road
to, 273; supplies at, 49;
Valley, 30,'31, 39, 43» 66,
95, 110; village, 31, 41, 100,
IOI, 102

Htawgaw,.26, 27, 29, 39, 102

Kawnglu, 205, 212, 214, 221,
224

Lawkhaung post, 25

Laza, 257, 258

Li-kiang, 21, 52, 61, 62; 100,

Lie22

Lumpung, 28, 29

Myitkyina, 18, 19, 20, 21, 97,
107, 153, 156, 208, 214, 272

308

Places and Posts—cont.
’Nsop post, 268
Peopat, 26
Putao, 228, 229, 241
Sadon, 21
Seniku post, 22
Tawlang, 153
T*eng-yueh, 21, 46, 47, 57;
LEA, 125, E22, 124
Tibet, 17, 37, 86, 92, 108, 180,
231, 240
Waingmaw, 20, 21
Wauhsaung, 20, 21
Yun-nan, 19, £05 (37, 43, ho,
49, 57> 79, 85, 100, 104,
II4, 123, 157, 168, 240
Poisoned honey, 82
Policy—
Burmese hinterland, Chinese
claims to, 275, 277, 279, 286
Indian Government and_ the
Burmese hinterland, 278, 279
North-East Frontier, natural
defences of the, 279, 283,
284, 287
Menace to Burma and Assam,
280, 281
Railways, possibility of, 288, 291
Pottinger, Captain, 153, 275

Rat traps, 134
Rivers—
Ahkyang, 107, 176, 183, 190,
192, 199; expedition to, 207
Chipwi hka, 24, 25, 27, 39
Daru hka, 264
Hpawte, 116
Irrawaddy, 18, 20, 46, 58, 147,
150, 208, 225; confluence
of, 19, 270; navigation on,
19, 20, 270, 271 ; sources of,

Laking hka, 107, 117, 138,
139, 142, 147, 168, 174

INDEX

Rivers—cont. a OM

Mali hka, 19, 159, 225, 240,
247, 251, 257, 2 4

Mekh rame, 107, 160, 161,
162, 167, 168, 170, 183 :

Mekong, 19, 37, 38, 86, 114, _
139, 157, 161 ; |

Nam Lang, 244, 245 4

Nam Palak, 228, 230, 244

Nam Tisang, 211, 247, 218,
221

Nam Yak, 246, 247 ;

Namre rame, 168, 184, 185, —
186

Ngawchang hka, 22, 25, 27, 39,
41, 65, 70, 80, 82, 96, Tio,
116, 117, 122, 136, 158

’"Nmai hka, £8, 24) 2350509500
139, 147, 150, 15%, 153,
155, 159, 160, 168, 176,
178, 183, 185, 198; farewell
to, 206

’Nsop-zup, 19, 267

Salween, 19, 37, 38 43, 58, 116,
139, 157» 1745 199

Shang wang, 211

Shingaw hka, 24

Shweli, 57, 58

Ta hka, 221

Tammu hka, 25

Ti hka, 224

Tumpang hka, 22

Wot hka, 248

Rope bridge, 143, 203

Stavery, abolition of, 233, 234
Storm, a destructive, 187

TERRIER pup, adventures of, 151,

161, 196, 220, 223, 224
Thunderstorm, 24, 72, 148, I 54s
163, 181
Trade routes in Asia, 288, 289

INDEX 309

Trees and plants—
. Aicery 26
Aeschynanthus, 118, 119
Ailanthus, 195

Alder-trees, 27, 69, 105, I19,

142, 190, 192

Allium, 128

Alnus nepalensis, 110, 195

Alocasia, 155

Amorphophallus, 118, 146

Androsace, 88

Androsace axillaris, 59

Anemone vitifolia, 68

Aristolochia, 57

Aroid, 194, 208

Astilbe, 108, 132

Azalea, 202

Balsam, 39, 52, 71, 77, 83;
700,/ 126, 118, 119, 132;
141, 208, 218

Bamboos, magnificent, 222

Banana, 26, 142, 194, 208, 265

Bauhinia, 66

Beesia cordata, 55

Begonias, 67, 171, 194, 208,
247

Birch, 131, 192, 195

Borassus, 218

Bracken, 27, 36, 38, 39, 68,
97, 98, 105

Broomrape, 93

Bryony, 97

Bucklandia, 36, 74

Buckthorn, 55

Buddleia limitanea, 36, 108

Bugle, 52

Cassiope, 86, 88, 92

Castanopsis, 194

Castor-oil plant, 263

Cherry, 90, 93, 131

Chirita, 116, 146, 155, 171,
182

Clematis, 35, 54

Club mosses, 143

Codonopsis, 55, 108

Coffin plank tree, 113, 114

Trees and plants—cont.

Colocasia, 116, 171
Conifer forest, 84, 85

Convolvulus, 218

Coptis teeta, 135\

Corydalis, 132

Corydalis saltatoria, 77

Cotoneaster, 60, 66

Cotton grass, 97, 98

Cremanthodium, 86, 88, 92, 128

Cuckoo-pint (4risema), 34, 35,
54

Curcuma, 22

Currant, 132

Cynoglossum, 108

Cypress, 115

Cypripedium, 59

Cypripedium arietinum, 106

Dendrobium, 29

Deutzia, 54

Diapensia himalayica, 88

Didissandra, 97

Englehardtia, 202

Enkianthus, 36

Epilobium, 108

Ferns, 34, 54, 55, 67, 69, 72,
84, 99, 155) 171, 181, 247;
bird’s-nest, 145, 218

Ficus cunea, 145

Ficus elastica, 265

Fig-trees, 26, 36, 142, 145, 194,
208

Fir-trees, 83, 84, 85, 88, 80,
126, 127, 129

Flowers, a paradise of, 56

Forget-me-not, 67

Geranium, 36

Gleichenia liniaris, 116

Globba, 118

Grass-of-Parnassus, 127, 128

Hamamelis, 105

Hedychium, 38

Hibiscus, 195

Holly, 55

Honeysuckle, 35, 55

Hydrangea, 26, 132

310 INDEX a

Trees and plants—cont.

Hypericum patulum, 29

Impatiens, 171, 181, 194, 207,
208

Irises, 31, 41, 54, 72, 115

Jasmine, 60

Juniper, 90, 93

Larkspur, 128

Leptocodon, 112

Liliacex, 84

Lilies, 38, 54, 555 68, 97, 105,
t27,' 092

Lilium giganteum, 55; nepal-
ense, 38; Thompsonianum,
127; Wallichianum, 38

Lousewort, 36, 128

Luculia gratissima, 54

Lygodium (climbing fern), 67,
112

Magnolias, 26, 35, 74, 124

Maple, 131

Marrows, 153

Meadow-rue, 56, 68, 97, 107;
128, 129, 132

Meconopsis Wallichii, 130

Melastoma, 155

Mimulus nepalensis, 52

Monkey flower (Mimulus), 52,
108, 132

Monkshood, 118, 128, #29

Mucuna, 146

Mulberry, 265, 270

Nipa, 218

Nomocharis, 36, 89, 127

Oak-trees, 26, 36, 55, 66, 74,
105, I10, 125

Orchids, 22, 44) Gas 555%
68, 72, 84, 89, 92, 93, 106,
116, 118, 155, 2703 butter-
fly (Calanthe), 34; remark-
able numbers of, 29

Osmunda regalis, 38

Palms, 26, 112, 143) 155) 221

Peach-trees, 135

Pedicularis, 83, 108

Pieris, 27, 36

Trees and plants—cont.

Poplar, 105, 195

Pine-trees, 27, 29, 105, 110,
142, 186, 208 a
Piper, 194, 195 «i
Podophyllum Emodi, 84
Polygonum, 67, 92, 108, 112,
133, 195 4

Poppywort, 129 4
Primulas in the forest, 54, 57;
60, 99, 107, 127, 132
Primula Beesiana, 55; coryphze
90; Delavayi, 128; fragilis,
593; helodoxa, 55; limnoica,
353 obconica, 26; sciophila,
88; sonchifolia, 36, 54 :
sylvicols, 54, 106 4
Pseudotsuga, 125
Pyrus, 29, 93, 202 |
Raspberries, 34, 41, 53, 83, 13 2
Rheum, 128
Rhododendron agapetum, 99,
106; an epiphytic, 26, 54,
553 crassum, 93; euchroum,
89; indicum, 29, 146, 202}
megacalyx, 54, 60 ; nmaiense,
go ; sino-grande, 57 ;
Rhododendrons, 26, 34, 55, oa
83, 84, 86, 99, 115, 126,
132, 174; dwarf, ie 935
size of, 85 ;
Rodgersia, 108
Rose, 55, 89
Royal fern, 38, 108
Rowan, 131
Rubber-tree, 265
Sagittaria, 4m :
Sago palms, 142, 149, I 53 "iy
185, 187, 218, 263 |
Saxifrage, 86, 127, 132
Saxifraga purpurascens, 92
Schima, 36
Schizandra, 35
Screw pines, 209, 244 P
Selaginella, 72, 171, 181,
218 .

INDEX 311

Trees and plants—cont.

Senecio, 128

Spirea, 89

Strawberries, 58

Stitchwort, 128

Strobilanthes, 118, 129, 133

Sundew, 38

Thunbergia hdl 2475255

Torenia, 173

Tradescantia, 41

Tree ferns, 142, 186, 194

Umbelliferz, 128

Walnut-trees, 112, 153, 207,
265

Wayfaring-tree, 55

Weigelia, 60

Willow, 36, 90, 93, 105

Willow-herb (Epilobium), 38

_ Zingiberacez, 34, 105

Tribal relations, 2 32

Tribes—

Chingpaw, 41

Duleng, dress of, 217, 224

Hkamti Shans, decline of, 259

Kachin burial customs, 250;
customs, 261 ; rafts, 19

Kachins, 41, 47,190; dress of,
248; independence of, 262;
religion of, 245; silk weaving,
265 3 trucalence of, 262,
282

Lashi intrigue, 101 ; savageness,
44

Lashis, 27, 30, 42, 43, 67, 69,
71, 76, 100, 102, 105, 110,
II2, 2116, 122, 124, 137,
151, 158; dress of, 67, 68,
96, 97; origin of, 41, 44,
235 ; relationships of, 41

Lisu huts, situation of, 198

Lisus, 27, 137, 167, 190, 194,
198; he, 198, 199; hwa,
198, 199 .

Marus, 27, 41, 42, 134, 1375
rae, B50, 15%} 156, 157,
161, 167, 190, 240, 263, 264

Tribes—cont.

Maru courtship, 163; customs,
148, 149, 157, 160, 163,
179, IOI ; graves, 157 ; hut,
structure of, 136, 143, 149;
method of carrying loads,
157; villages, situation of, 25

Matus, dress of, 137, 138, 139,
150, 152, 153; home of, 25,
167 ; origin of, 235 ,

Minchia, 52, 60

Naingvaws, 150, 157, 185

Nungs, 41, 240, 243, 247, 262,
268

Shans, 18, 25, 38, 43; dress
of, 233; history of, 236;
huts, 239 ; relations of, with
Great Britain, 259 ; religion
of, 236, 237

Shapa Lisu, 127, 136

Singphos, 240

Tai, tragic history of, 232, 234

Tribal names, origin of, 42

Tribes, distribution of, 42, 43;
Chinese names for different,
42

Yawyin customs, 69, 122,
124; huts, 121; structure of,
121

Yawyins, 27, 42, 43, 48, 57;
66, 67, 60, Sz,\ 1235) 124,
133, 134, 180; Chinese
influence on, 199; dress of,
122

T*ung-ch‘ien, 21, 68, 85, 88, 100,

109, 113, 116, 134, 151, 201,
2713

V
Vitae of the dead, a, 93

Warer from bamboos, 71

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Francis de Winton said that Mr. Arnot had
made the name of Englishman respected
wherever he went, and had helped effectually
in stopping the slave trade.”— British Weekly.

“A GREAT STORY GREATLY TOLD.
From first page to last this book is of com-
pelling interest. The diaries of the Great
African Missionary are laid under contri-
bution and the result is not only a fascinating story of adventure and travel, but an
autobiographical record ofimmense value. THE BOOK IS LIKELY TO RANK ASA
CLASSIC.”—Western Daily Press. 3

“ Full of exciting incidents, the young can find in it plenty of remarkable jungle stories, ‘3
and those of riper years will enjoy the graphic descriptions of travel in the tropics, the folk-
lore, and especially the ‘nerve’ of Stanley Arnot in boldly facing and overcoming any task —

from ‘buying’ a little slave to amputating a chief's arm witha penknife and anold razor! —

denouncing Portuguese and native rulers for Densecane, the horrible traffic in slaves.”
Manchester Guardian.

SEELEY, SERVICE & CO., LTD., 33 GREAT RUSSELL STREET, W.C. _

MODERN TRAVEL

A Record of Exploration, Travel, Adventure & Sport in all Parts
of the World During the Last Forty Years Derived
from Personal Accounts by the Travellers

NORMAN J. DAVIDSON, B.A. (Oxon.)

= 4
=~ wt t ae my Lsddesie
ay wi w a

A Ma.uayta SPEARMAN

SOME EARLY REVIEWS.
“‘ A veritable classic of travel."— Dundee Courier.

“A wonderful record, beautifully illustrated. The whole book is 'packed with epic
adventure.” —Aderdeen Journal.

“The author has collected his material from the accounts of travellers in widely-
diversified regions. ... He has a light touch and a turn for picturesque and clear narration
that keep his book from becoming a mere dull file, and makes it a glowing and adventurous
record. ... Sumptuously produced with more than fifty illustrations. . .. A veritable classic
of travel.” —Dundce Courier.

“Mr. Davidson has a keen sense of what is of general as opposed to specialist
interest, and the result is a fascinating book, well illustrated and mapped.”
Birmingham Gazette.

‘* A veritable library. Opening with chapters on hunting mighty game, the work goes
on to deal with adventures in Labrador, Paraguaya, and the Sahara, treats next of the
Haunts of Slavery and of the Wilds of Africa, takes i the tale of Madagascar as Nature’s
Museum, depicts New Guinea (‘a Land of Perpetual Rain’), proceeds to the Home of the
Bird of Paradise, and concludes with accounts of the Treacherous Tribes of Oceania.”

Aberdeen Free Press.

“A unique volume... . It has furnished me with many delightful hours.”
Dundee Advertiser.

‘Strange and thrilling pictures of other peoples and lands. . . . A very readable and
enjoyable book.”—Shefield Daily Independent.

SEELEY, SERVICE & CO., LTD., 33 GREAT RUSSELL STREET, W.C.

+ io
\
>» an
ty

SPITSBERGEN

An Account of Exploration, Hunting, the Mineral Riches and
Future Potentialites of an Arctic Archipelago eg

ee
ry

g
ve

R. N. RUDMOSE BROWN, DSc. _

Awarded Cuthbert Peek Grant by R.G.S. for exploration
in the Antarctic and Spitsbergen

Demy 8v0. With Many Illustrations &’3 Maps. Price 25s.Nett. —

SOME OF THE CHAPTERS IN THIS BOOK.

CHAP, CHAP.
I. THE DISCOVERY. XVIII. AN ADVENTUROUS VOYAGE.
III. ANIMALS AND PLANT LIFE. XIX. THE MINERAL WEALTH.
IV. THE EARLY WHALERS. ' XXII. THE MINING ESTATES.
XV. EXPLORATION OF THE INTERIOR. XXVII. THE SPITSBERGEN PROBLEM.

SOME EARLY REVIEWS.

“ Interesting and exhaustive.”—7e Observer.

‘* Thoroughly readable and entertaining. A genuinely valuable contribution to the
literature of the subject. This is one of those volumes which entertains whilst it informs.
The author uses his own first-hand knowledge well and clearly.”—T7e Times.

‘* Well informed and most interesting.”—Glasgow Herald.

“Equally fascinating to the naturalist, the botanist, and the reader, ennially
interested in exploration and adventure. Dr. Brown’s guidance regarding the mineral
wealth of Spitsbergen will arouse exceptional interest, and here the guidance of awriter
cautious in the expression of hopes based upon careful investigation is of 4 oa value.” 4

Aberdeen Journal. “a

‘‘A great part of the book is devoted to the deposits of iron, coal and minerals and

the various enterprises for working them.”—Axgilo-Norwegian Trade Journal.

“Opportune. . . . The author writes with authority. Beautifully produced in the — "
excellent style usually adopted by Messrs. Seeley.”—7he Mining World. :

SEELEY, SERVICE & CO., LTD., 38 GREAT RUSSELL STREET, W.C.

UNEXPLORED
NEW GUINEA

Travel, Adventure, and Observation amongst Head-Hunters
and Cannibals of the unexplored interior

BY
WILFRID N. BEAVER

For many years Resident Magistrate in Western New Guinea.

A New Guinea Laxartot.

Demy 8v0. With 82 Illustrations & 4 Maps. Price 25s. Nett.

SOME EARLY REVIEWS.
‘* A piquant and well illustrated book.”—Grafghic.

‘* A vivid and carefully detailed record in which humour and horror keep company.”
; Dundee Advertiser.
‘Mr. Beaver has contributed much of value and interest to the gradually accumulating
knowledge of New Guinea, and his premature death will prove a great loss to the science
of anthropology.”—A. C. Happon, M.A., Sc.D., F.R.S.

*‘ A most valuable and informing book describing a weirdly fascinating country, and Mr,
Beaver’s account is all the more valuable as it is the only book that deals with the western
division as a whole.”"— Aberdeen Journal.

** A true explorer who achieved much. The book deals with its most formidable division
—the vast unknown West ... illustrated with unique photographs, and told in simple,
modest language which can hardly fail to grip the reader.” —Country Life.

“‘ The Ukairavi people are cannibals who used literally to regard the Morobai as a kind
of larder from which supplies of fresh meat could be obtained together with a little excite-
ment in the hunting of their victims.” —Glasgow Herald.

‘* May be taken as the first standard work on the interior of New Guinea... contai
wealth of detail admirably illustrated. A really valuable and at the same time an lateanaly
interesting book.”—Shefield Telegraph.

SEELEY, SERVICE & CO., LTD., 38 GREAT RUSSELL STREET, W.C,

A CHARMING ANTHOLOGY BY “Q”

THE PILGRIMS’ WAY

A LITTLE SCRIP OF GOOD COUNSEL FOR TRAVELLERS

By SIR A. T. QUILLER-COUCH
Professor of English Literature at Cambridge University

Cloth, price, nett, 5s. Thin paper edition in leather, 6s. nett; buffed leather,

yapp, in aw box, price, nett, 6s.

‘**Prof. Quiller-Couch is the prince of anthologists.”

The Glasgow Evening News.

‘* A little book of grave and beautiful thoughts. It would be difficult to better
the selections.” —The Guardian.

‘‘The poems and prose passages are chosen—as might be safely foretold—
with taste and discrimination, and the volume will be found a heartening
companion.” —The Tribune.

‘The very flower of a cultivated man’s reading.” —Country Life.

** Prof. Quiller-Couch’s anthologies are the best of their kind in modern English
literature.” —The Morning Post.

THE GOLDEN RECITER

RECITATIONS AND READINGS IN PROSE AND VERSE SELEOTED FROM
THE WRITINGS OF
RUDYARD KIPLING, R. L. STEVENSON, CONAN DOYLE,
THOMAS HARDY, AUSTIN DOBSON, CHRISTINA ROSSETTI,
MAURICE HEWLETT, A. W. PINERO, SYDNEY GRUNDY, Gc.

WITH A PRACTICAL INTRODUCTION

By PROF. CAIRNS JAMES
Professor of Elocution at the Royal College of Music and the Guildhall School of Music

Extra crown 8vo, over 700 pages, cloth, nett, 6s. ; also a thin paper pocket edition,
with coloured edges, nett, 6s. 6d.
‘* An admirable collection of pieces, both in prose and verse.” —Spectator.
‘* Far superior to anything we have yet seen.” — Western Press.
‘A more admirable doe of its kind could not well be desired.”
Liwerpool Courier.

THE GOLDEN HUMOROUS RECITER

RECITATIONS AND READINGS IN PROSE AND VERSE 6ELECTED FROM
THE WRITINGS OF

F. ANSTEY, J. M. BARRIE, MAJOR DRURY, JEROME K. JEROME,
BARRY PAIN, A. W. PINERO, OWEN SEAMAN,
G. B. SHAW, &c. &e.
WITH A PRACTICAL INTRODUCTION

By PROF. CAIRNS JAMES

Extra crown 8vo, over 700 pages, cloth, nett, 6s.; also a thin paper pocket
edition, with coloured edges, nett, 6s. 6d. ; iE
‘* Unquestionably the best collection of modern humorous pieces for recitations
which has yet been issued.” The Dundee Advertiser.
‘* Packed with things that are fresh and unhackneyed.” — Bookman.

‘* An excellent selection, three-fifths of them being taken from the work of the — 4

best modern writers.”— The World.

‘* A most comprehensive and well-chosen collection of some hundreds of pieces—

a most catholic array of all that is good in English literature, and a small
encyclopedia of English humour.”—The Spectator.

SEELEY, SERVICE t CO., LIMITED

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